


Hold Me When I Turn My Back

by a_ufo_party



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flashbacks, On Hiatus, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Avengers (2012), Slow Burn, but WILL NOT be abandoned, the writer is just currently hella depressed and unmotivated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_ufo_party/pseuds/a_ufo_party
Summary: Odin has fallen into Odinsleep once more. Thor is on Midgard. Asgard is in dire need of a competent ruler. So, Sif agrees to wed Loki and assume the throne. As the traitorous prince remains in prison, it is unlikely they will ever speak again after the ceremony. That is, until a series of events occur which force the former lovers back together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue in italics is several decades pre-Thor. The actual story takes place post-Avengers.
> 
> Title: Poison & Wine, The Civil Wars
> 
> Enoy...

_The sun danced on the bubbling brook, painting intricate designs upon the cool stone walls surrounding the cove._

_Two young asgardians sat in the mid morning heat, atop the coarse, white sand._

_Polishing her sword, Sif’s back slouched against a large rock. Loki's head rested on her thigh as he read a book of spells; his dark brow furrowing and his mouth forming silent words._

_This was often how they would spend summer afternoons, especially when Thor and his warrior friends were away hunting. As Loki had little interest in such activities, he chose to stay behind. Sif, however, would've given anything for the chance to join the hunts. But being a young woman prevented her from attending ("At least it does for now." She had growled on one such occasion.) Although, soon she had felt her bitterness about the matter deteriorating, as she grew to enjoy the company of the younger prince. Like herself, he was an outsider among his peers; preferring to sit in the shadowy library for hours on end and study his arts of trickery and magic, rather than duel in the dusty ring with the other boys._

_True, sometimes he was irritating, as he rarely spoke with sincerity and had a troublesome temper, but nevertheless Sif found herself greatly valuing their friendship. He was one of the few people who didn't question her when she self-assuredly declared to him that she would be a great warrior one day. And she believed that he had developed an attachment to their relationship as well. Although he rarely showed deep emotion, Sif found herself listening as he confided in her on several occasions. Almost always these complaints were about the same subjects: his envy of Thor and his desire to be viewed as his brother's equal in the eyes of the king. However, if these conversation grew too personal, Loki would abruptly end them and sarcastically brush away any attempt to rekindle the discussion._

_As Sif shined the blade of her weapon with vigor, she pondered what the older prince and his warrior friends might be doing in that moment. Had they caught a beast yet that day? Were they tracking it correctly? Had they already finished and set off to celebrate in an ale house?_

_"Do you want to be queen someday, Sif?" Loki's voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts._

_"Hm?" She asked, unsure if she had heard him correctly._

_Placing his book on his chest, he stared up at her with an expression she couldn't read. "Would you like to be queen?"_

_"I...don't know." Swiftly stabbing her sword into the sand, she bit her lip. "Why do you ask?"_

_"I heard mother and father having a discussion yesterday morn." His eyes fixed on a lizard which clung to the stone wall. After muttering an incantation of some kind, the creature changed from red to yellow and sprouted wings._

_Sif snorted._

_Loki sighed, "Damn."_

_"That's not what was supposed to happen, I gather?" A wry amusement graced her voice as the prince rolled his eyes. "You say they were having a conversation?"_

_"Yes. About Thor. About selecting a wife for him, should he be king." Completing the sentence in a mocking tone, Loki's nose wrinkled._

_"And...they mentioned me?"_

_He nodded._

_Instantly Sif felt a blush burn on her cheeks. The idea of marrying Thor, that handsome, foolish youth with whom she only spoke when forced was something she'd never even considered. But now that it was suggested aloud, she realized how obvious it was. She was well educated and skilled in the art of war. She was close with the family. She came from a noble line._

_Of course she would be considered. "They want me to marry Thor?"_

_"Yes, are you flattered?" Lifting his head from her leg, Loki's voice was sharp with sarcasm. "Already planning out your wedding?"_

_"Calm your tone." Sif glared at him, all too used to his outbursts when it came to his brother. "I'm simply surprised."_

_With a sigh, Loki slouched against the rock beside her._

_There was a moment of silence, filled only with the sound of the bubbling stream._

_"You know, they talk as if Thor is already king." The dark haired boy breathed, his tone defeated._

_Eyes flickering to his face, Sif felt a pang in her chest for him. There was a raw pain in his eyes which she had not seen before. "Perhaps they speak of you that way as well, when you are not eavesdropping."_

_"They don't. Occasionally my mother with patronize me with mentions of kingship." Digging a pebble out of the sand, he tossed it across the water. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. "It is nothing but pity. I know this too well to deny it." He spoke through a clenched jaw, trying to hide the tears in his voice._

_Unsure of how else to respond, she took his thin, pale hand in hers._

_He flinched instantly, but did not pull away._

_They sat in silence for some time._

_"I wish..." Loki started again, eyes focused on their clasped hands. "I wish I could blame father for choosing Thor."_

_"There are still many decades ahead before he must decide, Loki-"_

_"But he will choose him. And not for any practical reason. No, he will be selected because he's handsome and liked by every fool in this realm. Our father will decide to overlook Thor's temper and conceit. He will ignore the hours I have devoted to studying strategy and history. He will put his favorite son on the throne...and doom Asgard to an incompetent rule."_

_Pressing her lips together, Sif squeezed Loki's cold hand and said nothing. She knew his pattern. The conversation was betraying too much of his feelings, so in a moment he would change the subject and refuse any attempts to continue it._

_"You never did answer my question, you know." Pulling his hand away from hers, Loki stood up from the ground and rested his back against the boulder._

_"What question?" She sighed, rising to join him; disappointed that she had been right._

_"About being queen."_

_"I suppose I haven't thought about it."_

_Loki lifted his eyebrows, not accepting that answer._

_"But..." She continued, "I believe there would be parts of it that I would enjoy. Perhaps."_

_Nodding, he said in a soft tone, "You would make a good queen."_

_The comment took Sif by surprise. Flattered, she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Loki."_

_"But would it be worth marrying my dimwit brother for? I think not."_

_"He is not the only prince, you know." She jested, touching her shoulder to his._

_Slowly, he turned to face her; forehead knitted with confusion. "What...what do you mean by that?"_

_"I was..." Shaken by his sudden seriousness, Sif thought about telling him she had been joking. However, as his gaze tore into her, she couldn't find the words to do so. Because, truth be told, she had considered a marriage to Loki recently, but it was never for the purpose of becoming queen._

"...you heard me." She said at last.

_A moment of silence passed._

_Loki breathed a small laugh and looked away. "Well...it is not likely that I will ever be king, so...that remark was...not...in order for you to be...if my brother..." Then, giving up on words, he suddenly spun to face her._

_And after a tiny pause, he stepped forward, lips meeting hers._

_The unexpected nature of the gesture caused Sif to release a small noise of surprise. However, after a moment she relaxed in his embrace and heartily returned the kiss._

_It felt far more...right than she had expected it to. True, it was clumsy and nervous, but Sif found the prince’s awkwardness rather charming. And the way he gripped her waist made her heart leap._

_After a moment, he pulled away slightly._

_She mourned the loss of his cool lips against hers._

_Their foreheads stayed together, however, and she felt his brow furrow against her skin._

_"Will you...could you make me a promise?" His voice was hoarse and breathless._

_"Yes?" Eyes fluttering open, she took in his pleading, vulnerable gaze._

_"Promise to be my queen, should I be king." His grip on her waist tightened slightly._

_"You have my word." She replied._

_"And...not to marry Thor." He added, voice sounding strained._

_"On my honor as a warrior." Taking a step back, she put her fist to her chest and bowed._

_"You are not yet a warrior." He lifted an eyebrow wryly._

_"And you are not yet a king." She smirked in reply._

* * *

"Dearest Sif, you must know." Frigga’s voice echoed through the high ceilings of the throne room. "From your childhood many in Asgard believed you to be their future queen. I myself confess that it is what I had hoped for."

Sif opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted, "Pray do not feel compelled to feign surprise. This cannot be news to you."

"I confess...it is not." Sif bowed her head, blushing slightly at admitting such a prideful belief.

However, the queen's kind smile put her nerves to rest. "And I will tell you, I still harbor that same hope. That is the purpose of my calling you here." Folding her hands in her lap, Frigga looked at the painted ceilings, ignoring the confusion which clouded the warriors face. "The Allfather has fallen into Odinsleep once more. As he was disrupted last time, it is my belief that he will not awaken in the foreseeable future. Perhaps not for the next thousand years. And when he does, he shall be a weak, old creature. I dare say...his days as Asgard's ruler are behind him."

"My apologies, but I do not follow you." Sif bowed her head, eyebrows drawing together.

"You are an exceptionally smart girl, Sif. Surely you must have some notion as to why I tell you this." Kindly holding out her hand, the older woman beckoned for the her to approach. "Odin is asleep, Thor desires to be with his midgardian, I am emotionally exhausted and too old to lead this realm alone-"

"Pardon the interruption, my queen, but I do comprehend those facts. I simply don't understand how they concern me. You cannot be thinking of my wedding Thor despite his engagement?"

"I confess I had indeed once hoped for that, but no. It would be cruel to force him away from the human when her lifespan is so short. As a mother, I haven't the heart. And he has no interest in ruling, anyway."

"Then-"

"I am certain you know who the line of succession falls upon next."

"Indeed, your majesty, Fandral-" Sif stopped cold. Frigga was suggesting she marry Fandral? Flirtatious, suave Fandral? Fandral why cared more about the amount of women in his bed, than the amount of battles he'd won? Granted, he was her friend. But could she ever be married to him? "Are you proposing I wed Fandral?"

A surprised laugh escaped the queen's lips. "Why, no Sif. You and I both know he would be an ineffective ruler. I am grateful that he defends Asgard as a warrior, but his reign would be an...embarrassing chapter in our history. For that matter, he has even made it known to me that he does not desire a life beyond the sword. And, as the nine realms stand in uproar, a competent, dedicated ruler is more important now than ever. No, indeed, there is actually one before Fandral in the line."

Instantly, realization dawned on the warrior.

_Loki._

Her heart sunk as the old pain of his betrayal rose in her memory.

"But...he forfeited his right to the throne when he committed treason-"

"One would think that, yes. However there are no rules prohibiting him from becoming king. The law only states that he is not permitted to make laws or wield Gungnir. There is nothing that says he may not take a queen who will lead the realm."

"But..." Sif's heart began to beat heavily as the reality of Frigga’s proposition settled in her head. "Surely Loki has not agreed to this?"

"I have yet to suggest it to him. I wanted first to bring it to your lap. But should you agree, I haven't the least bit of doubt that he will not refuse."

"Then...I would wed Loki." Voice hoarse, Sif spoke aloud; more for her own benefit than the queens.

"Yes, that is the general idea." Frigga looked on kindly. "But come now, Sif. Loki is imprisoned, and sentenced to stay that way until his death. You will hardly have to speak with him, save for your wedding day-"

"-but Loki would be my husband."

"Yes, and you would be queen."

There was a moment of silence.

"Is there...are there not laws prohibiting a queen from ruling whilst her husband is in chains?"

"There are. But once again, there are ways around them. Should you marry, Loki would be transferred to the holiday palace in Nornheim. That would act as his prison, while still lawfully being regarded as a suitable dwelling place for the spouse of Asgard's ruler."

"-but would this not still be imprisonment?"

"You cannot be blind to the fact that Loki's mind is quite unbalanced. In the palace he could be treated, while you rule as monarch. The laws clearly state that, should the king fall ill, the queen may take over in his place. Now, are you satisfied?" A wry twinkle shone in her eyes.

"Yes, your highness."

"And have you any other objections, besides your concern for upholding the law?"

Sif felt a strange guilt in her stomach as she shook her head. She should've had more objections. Any person in their right mind would've been repulsed at the idea of marrying Loki. But somehow, perhaps due to their history, she couldn't bring herself to recoil at the notion.

And that worried her.

"May I...may I have a day to consider it, your majesty?"

"Of course, Sif. Shall I mention it to Loki in the meantime?"

"Yes-no." Pausing, she studied the floor. She wanted to see Loki again before the decision was made. "I...I would like to mention it to him myself."

"Very well. I'll tell the guards to give you leave to enter the dungeon."

"Thank you, my queen." She responded distantly. And with a small bow, she quitted the room. 

* * *

"Loki."

Her voice met his ears like a gunshot, ringing through his mind.

He'd known she was coming. The moment he'd heard her footsteps on the stone floors he had created an illusion of himself to sit reading on the chair. This way he could be as close to the window as possible without her knowledge.

But he hadn't been prepared for her to speak to him. He had assumed she was there to interrogate a prisoner. Although, in a way, she was; as her presence was his worst possible torture.

Walking to stand close to the cell window, he remembered to make the illusion look up and nod blandly.

"Loki...I must discuss something with you." Sif said sternly, though her eyes betrayed some apprehension.

"What an honor." The illusion looked back at his book and turned a page.

"May I enter your cell?"

"I have no power to stop you."

Soon, the shield walls fell and Sif stepped into the small room.

"What is your business with me, oh great warrior? Have you come to at last fulfill the king's wish and execute me? Because I must say, I am flattered that you have condescended to swing the axe yourself-"

"Enough. I come on a different matter. Your father has fallen into Odinsleep once more." Her dark eyes fixed on the illusions face, as if she expected some reaction, but received none.

The figure simply read on. "Hm. How interesting."

"Thor is on Midgard and the queen declares herself too old to lead. Asgard is in dire need of a ruler."

Ah. So she was there to mock the would be king.

A cold stab of betrayal gripped his chest. He hadn't expected this from her.

Loki made the illusion raise its eyebrows mildly.

"...because of this, the throne has been offered to me-"

"Congratulations. I've no doubt that-"

"-I'm not done, Loki. The throne has been offered to me on a condition which required my speaking to you this day."

"Hm."

"...the condition that we must wed."

A moment of silence passed.

Then, Loki breathed, "What?"

Sif jumped and spun around, suddenly facing him.

It was then he realized he had dropped the illusion by mistake. 

* * *

Loki stood before her, eyes wide and expressionless. The deep shadows which surrounded them suggested that he hadn't slept well in months. His tangled hair was tied back, revealing angry red welts where the chains had hung on his neck.

"What did you say?" He breathed hoarsely again.

"We would be married...then you would be transferred to the palace on nornheim and I would govern the realm as queen." Struggling to maintain her confidence under his intense gaze, she crossed the cell. Without the illusion, she could now see the true state he had been living in. One metal chair stood in the corner, with a stack of books beside it. A small copper colored streak stained the white floors, suggesting Loki had bled. Whether self inflicted, or brought about by the guards, it made her stomach sink.

"And-and why...why have you come here?" The prince rasped after a moment, regaining a bit of his composure. "You seem already decided. Why not simply go forward with this course of action?"

Turning, Sif's eyebrows drew together. "...I wanted to ask you-"

She was interrupted by a hollow laugh. "What power have I to refuse?"

"I would not force it on you, Loki-"

"Well why not? Am I not already forced to eat, to sleep," his voice grew sharper, "Am I not already forced even to live? What is one more meaningless action." A frantic desperation flashed briefly across his eyes, but soon melted behind a humorless smirk. "You feign pity. How generous. As if you were unaware of the torture I have endure at the hands of the people you swear loyalty to."

As a warrior, Sif knew when a battle was already lost. She knew when to give up, and when to continue fighting. Loki was toying with her, she reminded herself. It's what he was best at. He would not agree to this arrangement. And every moment spent with him put her in danger of viewing him as anything more than a traitorous prisoner.  
He was not the shy boy of whom she had once been so fond.

And she was a fool to have come.

"...I take it you are rejecting the offer, then?" Speaking coldly, Sif lifted her head.

"No."

"Well, should you reconsider, mention it to one of the-" Nodding, she began to walk towards the exit. Then she stopped. "-what?"

"No I am not rejecting this offer."

Lifting her eyebrows, she paused again. "Are you...is this a jest?"

"No, I accept your proposal."

Another beat passed.

"But you-"

"This is my decision. Now leave me before I change my mind." Voice dropping low, he spoke through a clenched jaw.

"But-"

"I said leave me!" He suddenly shouted, taking Sif by surprise.

“Damn it, Loki!” Instinctively gripping her sword, she drew away from him and nodded for the guards to open the doors.

Heart beating heavily, she glared at the prince and backed out of the cell.

But just before she left, she thought she saw a brief glimmer of apologetic regret in his eyes.

* * *

They were married three days later.

Less than twenty people stood about the hall. (Four of those in attendance were simply the guards, shadowing the groom with weapons drawn)

Loki avoided Sif's eyes as he repeated the words of the elder. His neck was bound in chains, as were his wrists and ankles. Since her visit to his cell he had been allowed to clean up slightly, Sif observed. His hair was cut just above his shoulders and brushed back. His face looked strangely young and the dark circles beneath his eyes were gone. Sif suspected this to be the product of one of Loki's illusions. It seemed as though he did not want to provide any onlookers with the satisfaction of seeing how he'd suffered.

Not that there were many onlookers.

"-with these sacred words you are hereby bound together in matrimony." The elder's voice droned coldly, as he gave a low bow.

At a typical Asgardian marriage ceremony, this statement would be followed by a kiss and cheers from the audience. However, that day it was met with silence and the groom was ushered away.

For several moments following the proclamation, Sif stood, eyes glued to the floor, listening to the sound of Loki's chains rattling against the hall floors.

_She was married._

_Married to Loki._

_She would be made queen at her coronation tomorrow._

_And he would be sent away._

They would likely never speak again .

Looking up, Sif caught his eyes just before he was led out of sight.

Unsure what she wanted to communicate, she gave a small nod.

And Loki, with a strange look of sadness and amusement, returned the gesture.   


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops, I know I said I'd post chapter two tomorrow, but I changed my mind. I have the laptop right now, so I might as well post it.  
> Enjoy!

The weight of the chains which hung on Loki's shoulders did not compare to that of his new situation.

He was married to Sif.

Each time the thought entered his mind he felt a pang in his chest. Images of her face during the ceremony haunted his memory. It was cold, emotionless, nonetheless beautiful. And she hadn't looked upon his own face once. Perhaps she was embarrassed to be united with a frost giant in such a manner. Perhaps she loathed him the way most Asgardian citizens did.

What must she think of him?

Was she disgusted?

Was she eagerly anticipating his removal to the palace on Nornheim?

And after the relocation, would he ever see her again?

The latter question answered itself with little difficulty. Of course he would not see her again. Aside from her obvious disdain for his presence, her visiting the traitorous, disappointing son of Odin would likely be frowned upon by her subjects.

He was a criminal, being shipped off to prison. Yet, at the same time, he was a king, traveling to his new palace. Had he been in a less remorseful mood, perhaps he would've enjoyed the poetic irony of the situation.

Upon feeling the dull end of a spear jab against his back, his eyes rose from the ground.

"Forward." The guard at his left growled, prodding him once more.

Giving the man a small, sarcastic bow, Loki allowed the guards to pull him toward the bifrost. As they paraded him through the streets, he kept a bland expression on his face, as one might if they were simply off to the market. Seeing the disappointment in the eyes of the onlookers, who had obviously hoped to watch him suffer, was a small comfort.

When they marched across the rainbow bridge, Loki observed the figures waiting at the end. Only two silhouettes were visible against the bright afternoon light, and Sif's was not one of them.   
He felt a strange surge of disappointment, but dismissed it sharply.

_Fool. Did you honestly believe she would want to see you off?_

Upon seeing that one figure belonged to his mother, however, his mood improved slightly. She stood beside Heimdall, her eyes pained, but her smile kind.

"Loki, husband of Queen Sif. In honor of your agreement to wed, your sentence has been lessened slightly." Heimdall's voice boomed as he glared. "Despite committing treason on your homerealm and crimes against the people of Midgard, you have been permitted to relocate to the palace on Nornheim. This fortress will act as your prison, and five guards, a healer, and a servant will see to your wellbeing. Should you attempt to flee this refuge, you will be returned to your cell on Asgard. Do you understand this?"

Pressing his lips together Loki gave a nod and furrowed his brow with mocking sincerity.

"Very well." The gatekeeper made no attempt at masking his hatred of the prince as he sneered the rest of his speech. "Still, it must be restated: Your villainous schemes bore no fruit and your attempts at destruction have only failed. You leave this realm as a disgrace, despite your recent actions. Have you anything you'd like to say in respect to this?"

"Son, this may well be your last time on Asgard's soil." Frigga spoke now, keeping her voice calm to hide the tears in her eyes. "If there's anything you want to atone for, any small remark you'd like to make, this is your last chance to do so."

Staring at the swirling colors beneath his feet, Loki thought carefully about his next words. A small, almost microscopic part of him wanted to apologize, at least for the pain he'd caused his mother...

But no.

That would leave the smug citizens feeling as though they'd succeeded in breaking him. So, looking up with a smile, he purred, "You said, honorable gatekeeper, that I have lost. In what what way do you mean?"

A look of intense disappointment overtook Frigga's face and she turned away from him.

Heimdall did not say anything.

"...because, it would seem to me, that I have lost almost nothing." Loki continued, grimacing slightly at the effect his decision was having on his mother. "Neither my brother, nor my father, is seated on the throne. I am the king. Jotunheim no longer threatens our realm. Indeed, good Heimdall, it would seem that I have very much so...won."

When he had completed this statement and smirked, the gatekeeper signaled to the guards, who began to drag him into the bifrost. But just before they entered the golden dome, Loki felt someone grab his arm.

"Son...the things we lose are not always so material as crowns and vengeance." Frigga spoke harshly, taking him off guard. "Often the greatest losses are of things which cannot be seen nor held. Yet their absence stings the worst."

Unable to come up with a witty response, Loki stared back at her with an intense gaze as he was rushed away.

And as the portal pulled him away from Asgard's soil, he felt a pang of emptiness, confirming that there may well have been truth in his mother's warning.

But it was too late now.

* * *

Sif's coronation had gone well.

The feast to follow was going better.

Dancing couples in vibrant colors spun their way about the ballroom. Frothy ale flowed like a river, accompanied by boisterous storytelling, and songs of the new queen's bravery. Volstagg's booming laughter carried throughout the hall as he spun the tale of the first time he underestimated Sif. The long tables were consistently replenished with every good thing to eat, filling the massive room with smells fit for Valhalla. Children played in the gardens, chasing after howling dogs. Flicking candles expelled shadows with warmth, and music seemed to fill every inch of the palace.

Indeed, the celebration was everything Sif could've hoped for. Because in the loud, overwhelmingly activity, no one would notice the queen drinking like her stein had a hole in the bottom. With each glass she willed away the questions that fogged her mind.

_Would she be a good queen?_

She believed she was as prepared as anyone. Having fought many a battle in Asgard's name, and studied along side her princes, indeed she was perhaps overqualified.

_Would the citizens take kindly to a female monarch?_

They certainly loved their queens of the past, and no one had yet professed any outrage.

_Had she made the right choice?_

This question made her blood run cold.

So, choosing not to dwell on it, she downed another drink.

And then there was the question of Loki.

Her husband.

 _Husband_ .

The word still caught her off guard.

 _Would he betray her? Was he planning something? Was this all a scheme?_   
_...or was there a chance that somewhere inside of the traitorous villain he had become, the smart, hungry eyed boy still lived?_

No.

She couldn't allow herself to think in that manor. Chugging one last cup, she rose from her seat at the table head and strode out of the hall. (And just as she had hoped, her absence went unnoticed beneath the commotion)

She continued walking until she reached a quiet balcony on the other side of the palace. Three people stood at the far end, speaking in hushed voices. Although disappointed, as she had hoped to find it deserted, she shrugged and made her way to the empty side. Being sure to take quiet steps so as not to attract the ears of the trio, she fell against a pillar; blocking her from their line of sight. Then, she took in a deep breath and reveled in the empty air. Though the sounds from the grand hall were still faintly audible, they were no longer overwhelming. At last, the warrior was alone with her thoughts. She could face them, without disruption.

However, soon the voices of the three shadowy figures carried to her ears.

They spoke in low grumbles, obviously discussing something of great distress to them. "...disgusting display of disrespect, I tell ye. Absolutely revolting."

 _A queen shouldn't eavesdrop_ . Sif scolded herself. But, the temptation grew too large as the unfamiliar voices began to sound angrier.   
_Etiquette be damned. Is it not a queen's responsibility to know what causes her subjects dismay?_

The conversation overheard was as follows:

"...a frost giant. Despite the honey coated lies of the monarchy, we are under the rule of an impure governor."

"True!"

"Would you allow a Dwarf to rule Vanaheim? Or a Troll to sit on Alfheim's throne? No!"

"Well said, friend."

"Here here."

"And as for the man in women's clothing who has married the grotesque traitor, I would barely call her Asgardian."

"Indeed, can one who has joined themselves with a criminal of another race and betrayed her pure bloodline still be labeled as such?"

"No indeed, friend."

"A woman cannot wield Gungnir no more than a frog can become a dragon."

"Nay, this is an embarrassing day for our great realm."

As Sif listened, she felt herself shrinking more and more against the pillar. She knew she should've strode up to the group and defended her honor, and had they been speaking about any other subject perhaps she would've. But she was in no mood that night. The words cut her deep, as they confirmed her worst fear. The people would reject her. No matter what she did, they would not be satisfied.

Despite the fact that her sword was barely bloodied, the battle was already through.

And she had lost.

Her depressive thoughts were interrupted when she suddenly noticed the voices growing nearer.

Then, without warning, they were addressing her.

"Evening, your majesty." The tallest man croaked with a deep bow.

Scrambling to her feet, Sif felt an angry blush burn on her neck. "Evening."

"What are you doing out here all alone, 'highness?" The shortest fellow crossed his arms.

Feeling slightly unsettled as the men gazed intensely at her, Sif gripped her sword and straightened her spine. "Getting some air."

"Not wise for a queen to wander about unprotected-"

"-I am a warrior, sir. I am all the protection I require." She glared, turning to leave. "Good evening."

“Indeed! Thousand apologies, your majesty.” The tallest man called after, voice turned chillingly serious, "...long live the queen."

Despite their simplicity, the words rattled her to the core.

Wanting nothing more than to retire to her chambers alone, Sif decided against rejoining the party.

But when she was at last laying on her bed, squeezing her eyes shut and coaxing sleep out of its cave, the peaceful release would not respond to her beckon.

Instead, the words of the stranger echoed in her head.

_Long live the queen._

_Long live the queen._

Long live the queen.

* * *

  
-5 years later- 

* * *

"How fares the queen?" Loki asked lightly as he stared out his large window at the surrounding forest.

"Very well. She leads our realm-"

"-your realm." He corrected his mother sharply, without turning from the glass.

"Our realm. Need I remind you that you're technically Asgard's king."

"How could I forget?" Sarcasm bled from his words.

"And you are still my son. So indeed, Asgard is very much your realm." Her hand reached out to touch him, but he flinched away and rolled his eyes.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again.

"She asks after you too, you know."

"Only hoping to hear that I've succumbed to death, I'm sure."

"Why are you so determined to believe that the world hates you? Why do you reject the possibility of unconditional affection?"

"The only unconditional emotions that exist are rage, vengeance, and jealousy. These are what drive kings and warriors. These are what build kingdoms and send mortals to their grave. Affection is fleeting and tires easily."

"You speak from your own distorted perception."

"How else am I to speak?"

His mother smiled sadly and opened her mouth, but he interrupted her.

"Throughout my existence this point of view has been the only to endure. I draw from this the conclusion that it is the truest mindset."

"Oh Loki...if only you could see-"

"Enough. I require neither your pity nor your attempts at redeeming me. I shall not be repenting and easing your burden this day. Sorry to disappoint."

"I come because I am your mother, and you my child. My motives are not so shallow as you paint them."

With a scoff, Loki finally turned to face her.

She met his gaze with weary, tear glazed eyes. "I will leave you now, as you wish. But I will come back again, as always."

Feeling a stab of guilt, Loki forced a thin smile onto his face and nodded.

She returned the smile heartily and reached out to touch his cheek as her form began to materialize.

When her image had at last disappeared into the air, Loki slumped against the wall and rested his face on his hands. He played the interaction over in his mind several times and concluded that it had not indeed taken place.

Long ago he had lost track of reality.

And now, sitting in the empty room, he was unable to discern whether his mother's presence had been genuine, or another illusion of his own creation. 

* * *

Queen Sif, ruler of the realm eternal, decorated war hero, peacemaker of the nine realms, was hiding in a dusty cellar, trying to resist the urge to scream into a loaf of bread.

She had five minutes, ten at the most, of solitude before someone found her. Be it a maidservant, a guard, an adviser, an elder, it didn't matter. They would all scold her for being alone, "unprotected," and drag her back to the throne room.

Clenching the fabric of her heavy gown between her fingers, she fell onto a sack of barley and closed her eyes. All she wanted to do was go out into a field and run, without having to slow her pace so the guards could keep up. She wanted to stroll into the muddy sparring grounds and face someone who wouldn't go easy on her. She wanted to chase a beast through the rain fogged forest on horseback, without a host of servants lumbering beside her and scaring off any prey. She wanted to experience the thrill of battle once more, the way it had felt before her life was so high a stake that it couldn't be risked.

_Thump thump thump_

Footsteps sounded from the wooden staircase.

Sif sighed.

Someone had found her.

Rising to her feet, she dusted off her skirt and began to form an excuse in her mind for her being there, when an unexpected voice met her ears.

"Sif? Is that you, dear?" Frigga asked.

Clearing her throat, the warrior cursed in her mind before replying ashamedly. "Indeed."

"Whatever are you doing down here?"

"I'm simply...getting some air."

By this time the former queen had reached the bottom of the steps, making her skeptical expressed visible. "Indeed? A rather odd choice in location to do so." Her eyebrows lifted, not unkindly.

"Oh, but you see, there is...a great draft...due to cracks...in the walls...perhaps...rats of some kind...tunneled..." Like a tired horse, her words limped on with stubbornness for a few moments, before finally coming to a halt.

"I think perhaps the queen is hiding from her advisors..."

Sif's shoulders sagged and her mouth opened slightly, attempting to think of another excuse.

Eventually, however, she simply nodded in defeat.

"Worry not, child." Frigga chuckled softly, approaching her. "Do you have any idea how many times I found Odin hiding in pantries and cabinets during his first years on the throne?"

Looking up from the floor, Sif's lips began to twist at the corners. "You jest."

"If only I did! No, it is quite true. On multiple occasions I discovered him amongst my robes in the closet, begging me not to disclose his location for another hour." Her eyes twinkled with the memory as a bittersweet smile graced her mouth.

After a moment, Sif touched the older woman's arm. "How fares the allfather today?"

"Unchanged. But he is at peace." She nodded, squeezing her hand. "Unlike you."

"I will be fine. I just...required a moment to myself. To think." Composing her stature, Sif nodded. "I promise you, I am well."

"I think that you are missing the freedom you had as a warrior. Am I correct?"

"Please do not think I regret my decision-"

"-I know, dear. I know you do not. However, after all you have done for Asgard, after all you've accomplished, I think you've more than earned the right to miss luxuries of your old life. You have proven many times over your loyalty and dedication to our realm. And in return to your valuable contributions, you are only restricted and smothered more. Have I correctly assessed your dilemma?"

Sif bowed her head in response.

"I think that perhaps you would benefit from a solitary refuge of your own."

"Forgive me, but you know full well there is no such place."

"Do I? I seem to remember owning two castles. One of which is left almost uninhabited, surrounded by lively nature and miles of forest."

 _The palace on Nornheim_ .

"But, Loki-"

"Your husband is kept in the east wing of the palace, restricted to a small corridor. I dare say you won't see hide nor hare of him."

"Still, I would be forced to bring a party of servants."

"Not if you never left Asgard..." A mischievous tone overtook Frigga's words and she waved her hand in the empty air beside her. Instantly, an illusion of Sif materialized.

"I...I couldn't possibly..." The queen felt a tingle of hope as a smile appeared on her face. "Someone would surely discover me?"

"Not if I am by your side all day, seeing that no one disrupts the illusion. This way your advisors will see you taking lunch in the garden with me, while the real you is riding through the wilderness of Nornheim, hunting game and reveling in the solitude."

Unable to contain the intense relief the prospect brought her, Sif lunged forward and hugged Frigga tightly. "Thank you."

The older woman laughed warmly in response and patted her back. "You are quite welcome, child. Now go pack some things for your trip and we'll get you to the bifrost."

* * *

  
The palace turned prison was carved into the trunk of a massive tree. Spanning several miles wide and high, its ancient branches disappeared into the foggy sky.

It made Sif feel small; a sensation the warrior queen was not at all familiar with.

As she approached the fortress, her boots clicking against the tree root walkway, a gentle drizzle began to pour from above. It was likely this rain had started several minutes ago, but giant leaves tenting the sky had slowed it from reaching the ground until now. In fact, the thick brush kept almost everything from falling to the realm's soil, including sunlight. The shadows caused a dim, swampy lighting to loom, ever-present in the air. Although, warm lanterns lining the trail offset this cozily.

Breathing in the fresh scent of dirt and water, Sif felt a smile creep onto her face. At last she was alone. Completely alone. There were no handmaidens, no (extremely unnecessary) guards, no advisers hissing in her ears, no nagging elders.

Just her.

After running the rest of the way to the palace, Sif explained to the servants her reason for being there and was led to a bedchamber. Ignoring the beautiful architecture of the building, she urgently changed out of the customary robes and skirt into her old armor, before once more heading outside.

Despite the sudden freedom she now possessed to do as she pleased, only one desire repeated in her mind. That was to train with her lethal weapons again, at long last.

To her mild disappointment, the sparring grounds were not well kept. They consisted of a large square plot of soil, riddled with roots and murky puddles. Gnarled trees, resembling skeletal hands reached for the sky, framing the field on all sides. Flickering orb lights hung suspended in their branches, and provided some clarity in the murky shade. These were not exactly ideal conditions for practicing complicated swordsmanship. But, at the moment, not exactly ideal was the best Sif could've hoped for.

Trudging through the mud with a contented sigh, she began to spin her double blade as a warmup.

But after a moment of doing this, she lifted her eyes to the palace and saw something.

Something that made her heart fall into her stomach.

She saw a pale, phantom-like face staring out of a window.

The face of her husband.

The face of Loki. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so so so (X100) sorry it took me this long to update. I feel awful. There will be a full explanation in the second A/N for those of you who care lmao.  
> Until then, enjoy chapter 3 AKA Confusing Feelings and Drama Queen Loki...

_Loki lunged forward with a grunt, brandishing his daggers in either hand._

_With skilled swordsmanship, Sif easily deflected his attack, sending him stumbling into the dust._

_"Damn." He sighed, propping himself up on his elbow. "At least pretend to struggle."_

_A satisfied grin played at her lips as she approached him. "Oh, I did. Had I not pretended this duel would've been over much sooner." After lifting an eyebrow, she reached out her hand to help him up._

_However, just as their fingers made contact, Loki began to materialize into the air._

_"By the Norns-" Sif gasped as his laugh sounded from behind. Looking down, she saw the glinting metal of Loki's dagger at her throat. "Trickster."_

_"Victor, is what I believe you meant to say. Indeed, I am victorious. Your surrender is accepted."_

_"Not likely. You cheated!"_

_"It's called being creative, good lady."_

_"We'll see about that." She breathed, before attempting to swivel and twist his wrist._

_But he was one step ahead of her. As she turned, he caught her waist with his left arm and secured her hands behind her back with the other._

_Her weapon thudded in the dirt._

_Now their faces were only inches apart and Loki smirked at the speechless rage in the warriors eyes._

_"You were saying?" He breathed smugly._

_Sif glanced all around, evidently trying to asses the situation and spot his weakness. But she seemed distracted..._

_Then, swiveling her head, an idea lighted behind her eyes. And before Loki could determine just what her epiphany was, she bridged the space between them and kissed him._

_Instantly, the prince released a sound of surprise. But soon, unable to resist, he let his own weapons fall and put his hands on her waist, smiling into the kiss._

_The moment he did so, however, he felt her muscles tense beneath his touch and realized her plan._

_Letting out a grunt, she rammed his body with her elbow, sending him toppling backwards._

_Then, wasting no time, she collected her discarded blade in one hand, and pressed the other firmly into his chest, ensuring his defeat._

_"As I said. Not likely." She panted, eyes dancing._

_"And you said I was cheating." He muttered, blushing slightly upon realizing how dazed his own voice sounded._

_Sif smirked at his fluster and lowered her eyelids slightly. "It's called being creative."_

_Slowly, Loki covered her hand with his own and glanced at her lips. "Well..if that is the case, then I surrender. Providing, of course, that you agree to teach me these, er, creative techniques?"_

_Grinning widely, she pulled him to his feet. "I'm sure I can arrange something."_

_With his usual, slightly devious smile, Loki reached out and pulled her closer._

_Her arms moved to snake about his neck._

_However, just as their lips were about to meet, a booming voice interrupted them._

_"Sif! Where have you gone off to?"_

_"Damn. Thor." Loki sighed, stepping away from the warrior hurriedly. "What can he want with you?"_

_She said nothing, eyes darting to the ground._

_"Sif! Sif-oh, hello brother." The blond prince burst through the barn door with a confident grin. "Training, I see. Good. Ancestors know you could use it." Strolling up to the couple, he ruffled his brother's dark hair._

_Loki glared at him and crossed his arms. "The training of one's mind is equally important, brother. And it seems to be the one task you neglect most."_

_"If that philosophy eases your insecurities, then by all means continue to recite it to me." Thor winked good-naturedly before turning to Sif. "You have not forgotten about today, have you my lady?"_

_"No, indeed. I...I simply lost track of time. I apologize." Sif smiled at him regretfully._

_Scowling at the situation in its entirety, Loki felt a surprisingly intense pang of jealousy. "And what is today?"_

_"Ah, had I not told you? Father has permitted the lovely Lady Sif to join us on our hunt this evening!" Thor beamed._

_Sif returned the smile. However, upon turning to look at Loki, her face fell. "You are coming with us, aren't you Loki?"_

_A moment of silence passed._

_"I am not in spirits for such sport." He started, dulling his voice to mask any emotion he may or may not have felt. "But I am sure you will find Thor to be far better company than I. Good day."_

_And with that, the dark haired prince turned and strode out of the barn. Once he was certain he was out of view from the others, he lifted his hand and touched his lips._

_They were still warm._

_He felt another sharp stab of some inconvenient emotion, but suppressed it with a grimace._

_The days of kissing in old barns with creaky ladders, keeping one another company in the dank library, and sharing knowing looks across the room when Thor acted the fool were over._

_For indeed, Sif was no longer an outcast._

_But regretfully, Loki still was._

* * *

It became Sif's habit to spend several hours at the Norn fortress every few days, relishing in the moments of solitude. She found this simple luxury refreshed her far more than the pampering of the palace. Catching her own dinner, roasting it over an open fire, practicing swordplay until the cloud-muffled sun sank beneath the trees; these rustic allowances gave her great satisfaction.

But she never went inside the palace, unwilling to risk encountering Loki.

She also never gave herself leave to spend the night on the realm. No matter how late it grew, she always returned to Asgard to sleep. Somehow, staying on Nornheim in that manner seemed like a betrayal to her kingdom. This conviction was why she often found herself walking the halls of her home at unholy hours of the night, trying not to track mud and twigs behind her.

However, though she normally went unnoticed on these evenings, this night was different. As she marched briskly towards her chamber, a figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

Instinctually, she clutched her sword.

"Rest easy, your highness. 'Tis only I." Fandral's suave voice carried to her ears, settling her nerves.

"My friend, I have told you many times, you may still call me Sif." She sighed wearily, approaching him.

Looking her over with an air of suspicion, he began walking beside her. "Having an evening stroll, were we?"

"Indeed."

"Tell me, did you bring your guards with you?" A hiccup escaped his lips.

_So he was drunk._

_Marvelous._

"You know full well they are not necessary." Sif felt herself growing irritated as the effects of her exhaustion set in. She did not want to deal with an intoxicated Fandral at this late hour.

"Oh, I know. It's just...well, this is the damnedest thing, but I swear I saw you and your guards walking the gardens not an hour earlier." Feigning disbelief, Fandral's eyes reflected a more serious accusation.

"Is a queen forbidden from walking more than once a day?"

"Oh no, but I suspect she did not anyhow."

"What do you mean by this?" She asked through a clenched jaw, waiting for him to cast the fatal blow; to rip away her last little oasis of freedom.

"What I mean is that it seems to me I'm being made a fool of. For I had this very conversation with 'you' no more than ten minutes ago." With a final, triumphant nod, he crossed his arms, satisfied.

Blood boiling, Sif gripped the front of the flirtatious warriors shirt and pulled him roughly into her chamber, slamming the door tightly behind them.

"At least romance me first, Sif. Honestly." He smirked, adding fuel to her angry fire.

"Shut up, or I will see to it that you never speak again." Pressing the dull side of her sword against his throat, she made her voice a low growl. "If you speak to anyone about this-"

"-I'd merely like to know what 'this' is!" He sputtered, a frantic surprise appearing in his eyes.

After a moment of holding the threatening stance, Sif let her hands drop to her side and attempted to gather her composure.

"I apologize." She breathed finally, taking a large step away from him. "Forgive me. I am...I am exhausted."

His hand flew to his neck the moment her weapon was gone and he swallowed visibly. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I have been making visits to the palace on Nornheim as a solitary retreat-"

"And yet you have remained very much here."

"Please, I will explain to you in the morning when you are no longer intoxicated-"

"Is it the handiwork of your husband?"

The question made her blood run cold.

So this is what he thought.

"Fandral...what do you mean by-?"

"Is the traitor which bares the title of king creating a double of you, so that you may visit him in his prison? Is that the reason for your absence?"

"How dare you-"

"We all remember how you were lovers as children. Has the spark been rekindled? Is the queen now in bed with-"

He was interrupted by a strong blow to his cheek. Instantly, he crumpled to the floor with a gasp of pain.

Sif shook her hand in the air, thinking that it would likely be bruised tomorrow from the force of the punch. But it mattered not.

He deserved it.

"Though I owe you no explanation, for the sake of your own humiliation I will tell you this." She glared over him. "The illusion is a creation of the former queen. My traveling to the palace was her idea. Your disrespect and suspicion this night has been disgusting, and very unlike you. Perhaps it is a result of your drunkenness, but that is a tired excuse. When your mind is no longer muddled with alcohol, I will expect an apology. Go now. Leave my chambers."

Not needing to be asked twice, the blond man scramble to his feet and quitted the room with a stiff nod.

The moment he was gone, Sif began removing her armor and bathing her mud coated skin with the bowl of once warm water (now gone cold) set out on her dresser. But all through this task her mind was preoccupied.

She had seen Loki again that day. (Fandral's accusations had brought the memory to the forefront of her mind)

He was always in the window staring out at the grove of giant trees; never looking directly upon her, never moving, just standing, frigid and numb.

To Sif's surprise, he had looked somewhat healthy, no longer skeletally thin and pale. Although it worried her that this observation brought her peace. Did she not want him to suffer, to pay for his crimes? Was he not barred from sympathy due to his betrayal? Yet the queen could not bring herself to take joy in his pain (as Asgard's citizens did). Perhaps because of their past relationship, because she knew his feelings...

But did she?

Was it not possible that he had changed since their childhood affair? That his heart had darkened with the blood he'd spilled?

But his scared, broken gaze when she'd visited his cell five years ago would beg to differ.

Slipping on her bed robes, Sif fell onto her pillow and covered her ears, wishing Fandral had chosen any other night to confront her. For her body was weak with exhaustion and desired sleep, but her mind fought against it.

This conflicted state led to a restless slumber, with complicated, unsettling dreams.

But in all of these dreams, one aspect remained the same: pained, spectral green eyes, watching her from a distance.

* * *

Sif rose early the next morning, head still swimming with unsettled quandaries from the past evenings events. As she braided her thick, raven hair, she wondered if Fandral had shared his charming theory with her other friends. Hogan, she supposed, was too wise to believe his accusation, but Volstagg was rather gullible when it came to Fandral's gossip.

They would at least, she supposed, have the decency to wait until they'd spoken to her before spreading the rumor any further. At one time they had all been the closest of companions. And though their friendship was not so intimate now, as her queenship occupied all of her former free time, she did not believe they would (soberly) accuse her of such treason.

Rising from her bed, she allowed the sudden stream of servants to dress and prepare her breakfast. So exhausted was she that she found herself rather enjoying the pampering this day. After eating and looking over her schedule, she then pardoned herself and made off for the gardens in hopes of finding the Warriors Three. However, this location was almost barren. They were not in the dueling ground either. Finally, Sif had an idea and made her way to the ale house.

Sure enough, the trio were seated at a poorly lit table in the back of the restaurant. As she approached them, she was showered with declarations from other patrons of, "your majesty," "long live the queen," and "morning 'highness!"

Sif tried to respond to all of these with a nod or a smile, but was too preoccupied with her current predicament to give any more.

Falling into the chair beside Hogan, she made eye contact with the barmaid and nodded for an ale.

"Majesty! Nice of you t'join us." Volstagg grinned at her, patting her back.

This gesture eased her nerves slightly. Volstagg, at least, did not believe her to be a traitor.

"My friends, it is good to see you," said Sif warmly. However, she glared at Fandral.

To his credit, the dashing warrior did look guilty (albeit a little hungover) as he sliced his potatoes numbly.

"Drank a well dry last evening, did we Fandral?" She prodded, lifting an infuriated eyebrow.

He mumbled something inaudible and stuffed a chunk of meat into his mouth.

"Sif, he has told us of your conversation." Hogan stated, voice gruff, though not hostile.

"Ah." Looking around the table, she tried to read her companion's faces. "How much did-"

"We don't think yer a traitor, if that's what's got you worried," assured Volstagg kindly.

Sif's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"We have different concerns, however." Hogan folded his hands on the table. "You should not be going to Nornheim."

"Oh?" Blood turning uncomfortably cold, Sif accepted the stein brought over then by the barmaid and took a hearty swig.

"It is unwise and dangerous." The Vanir man continued. "You are no fool, Sif. Surely you are not blind to the risks."

"...you are correct. I am not a fool." The queen began carefully, feeling herself bristle at the condescension. "Know this when I tell you that I have calculated the potential harm and concluded it to be avoidable. Thank you for the counsel, but-"

"We're just concerned about you, Sif." Volstagg cut in, kind eyes crinkled with worry. "S'not smart to be visiting tha' palace. We know yer motives are honorable, but the common man doesn't. What if the wrong sort catches wind if this? How would that look?" He looked around before whispering. "There dwells Loki."

"I have hid it well," said Sif guardedly.

"Pardon the interruption, but I unraveled your secret while intoxicated," said Fandral with a smug grin. However, one look from the other three and the expression fell. "Er, on the subject, I do apologize for my accusation last night, dear friend. I was indeed out of line."

"Accepted. Think no more of it." She waved distractedly.

"Just...think about what we've said to you Sif. The, er, nature of how you took the throne had folks in edge as it were. Best not to stir the waters now they've settled." Sighed Volstagg.

"I will, my friend. I will." She took another swig of her ale but remained distracted. The object of her attention had turned from her concerned friends to a group of achingly familiar men who she had just caught staring at her. However, they had looked away suspiciously the moment she glanced in their direction…

* * *

For the first time since her initial visit to Nornheim, Sif was walking through the towering doors of the palace.

Or rather running, as massive raindrops poured from the murky sky and cracks of thunder resounded after her.

She vaguely remembered reading about Norn storms and their severity in her studies as a girl, but the information had long been buried beneath more important knowledge.

Slamming the doors behind her, Sif fell against them just as the horrible snap of an oversized tree branch creaked through the air. Due to the intensity of the lightning and wind, and the fact that the realms surface was 70% forest (and 30% ocean. More useless information...) the citizens of Nornheim followed a strict law: no living creature may remain out of doors during a storm. And as storms were known to last up to a month, Sif found herself intensely nervous.

Standing for a moment in the tall foyer of the palace to regain her composure, she watched as beaded raindrops on the glass ceiling made shadows on the ground. Wood floors, polished to an almost mirror like state, lay beneath her feet and the earthy smell of fresh cut lumber surrounded her. And through the muffled silence in the air, the walls of the tree-fortress could be heard creaking against the wind.

It was then that Sif realized there were no servants about.

_Odd_ , she thought, ringing out her thick hair and sending water splashing to the ground. She didn't mind there being no one there to wait on her. Truly, she didn't. She vastly preferred to take care of herself anyway. But the lack of life was unsettling. Perhaps they simply were not expecting her to enter through that particular door, as historically she had only used the main entrance. (The sudden nature of the storm had forced Sif to run through the nearest passage)

Shrugging off the uncertainty, she tossed the sopping hair over her shoulder and began to stride down the hall.

However, after several minutes of walking, she became aware of a sound.

She paused, listening.

_Click, click, click, click_

It resembled footsteps, growing progressively closer.

She coughed to make her presence known.

_Click...click..._

The beats slowed.

Soon, a flickering light became visible at the end of the hall. It's glowing rays illuminated the silhouette of its carrier.

Sif felt her stomach drop.

Approaching her, with a vague, distant look in his eyes, was Loki. It seemed, however, that he did not comprehend her presence. As he came closer she heard him faintly humming an Asgardian folk tune.

"Loki..." started Sif when the gaunt young man was nearly five feet in front of her.

Instantly, he froze, gaze locked to the floor.

"Loki?" She repeated, feeling her heartbeat quicken unconsciously. Now that she was seeing him up close she realized she had misjudged his state in the window. Perhaps the distance had contorted his image, for the man approaching her was indeed far from healthy. His pale skin was almost translucent and his ordinarily thin frame was skeletal. Her stomach turned. "Are you...are you alright?"

"What?" He breathed, voice panicked.

She repeated herself, tone strained.

"You are truly here," stated Loki with the nervous edge of a question.

"Yes..."

He swallowed sharply.

A moment passed.

Then, a whisper escaped the cringing queen, "You look like death."

"Death?" Loki's hollow voice suddenly laughed as he lifted his head. The sound sent a chill down Sif's spine. "Oh no, your majesty, Death is far better off than I."

Now his eyes lost their distant film and a cold grip of reality grounded his continence. Even his physical stature appeared less ghostly. It was like night and day.

Sif stared at him lamely.

"May I inquire after the nature of your visit?" He asked with casual politeness.

"You-you may. Though I have no obligation to answer."

"Very true."

"Where are all the servants?"

"Ah, has the queen grown accustomed to her pampering?"

Sif bristled. "A petty insult. It would seem the time imprisoned has eroded your creativity. Your once silver tongue has become rusted iron to match the cell bars."

A thin smile twisted Loki's lips. "Perhaps now it is you who possesses the tongue of silver, my lady."

Compulsively, she returned the smirk slightly. However, it only took a moment for her to remember that they were no longer children, bantering on the dueling grounds.

Clearing her throat, she drew away from him. "Enough of this persiflage. Where are the servants?"

"Hm." He nodded, turning his gaze down the hall. "This is the east wing. I'm afraid I am the only soul you will find in this corridor."

"Very well then." She started down the hall, but paused, eyebrows furrowed. "Were they not-forgive me, but were the servants not instructed to see to your well being?"

Loki's eyes glinted with wry enjoyment. "Is this concern, your highness? For me?"

"Silence." She glared. "I simply wish to know if the servants are performing as instructed."

"Ah, naturally. Well, you will be disappointed to hear that they do not step foot in this wing except to toss my meals through the door." Seeing her unsettled expression, and seeming to enjoy it, he went on. "But can you really blame them? Their job is to feed the frost giant and make sure it doesn't escape. Not keep it company."

"But you were not sentenced to isolation. Your mother explicitly requested that you have frequent contact with others." Sif could not help feeling a deep stab of outrage at the servants.

"Worry not, your highness. My mother has come and spoken to me herself on several occasions, so I have not been without conversation."

His words took Sif by surprise. Looking up, she said carefully, "Loki...your mother has not left Asgard since your imprisonment."

Instantly, all emotion left his face. "You're wrong."

Now the fallen prince looked quite young again. Young and stubborn.

And scared.

"I am not wrong. She scarcely leaves the palace except to walk in the garden or train with her weapons." As each of her words met Loki's ears, Sif watched his face grow colder. "Perhaps...you have imagined-"

"No."

"But Loki, you have been kept in isolation for nearly half a decade-"

"I spoke to her."

"Perhaps." Biting her lip, Sif hesitated. "But perhaps you only thought she was-"

"She was here!" Loki shouted finally. "I know she was here! I spoke to her!" Turning, he punched the wall behind him with a terrible crack.

Then, he gasped and clutched his fist to his chest, sinking to the floor.

Sif stood helplessly, watching the young man crumple.

"Loki..." She breathed.

Shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, he sucked in a sharp breath. Then, he hissed through a clenched jaw, "Does this please you, seeing me in this state? Is that why you've come? To lie to me? To turn the tables and punish the prisoner?"

"Loki, get a hold of yourself. I have only told you the truth-" kneeling beside him, she resisted the urge to touch his shaking shoulders. "But...but once I return I promise to arrange for servants that will do their job."

For a long moment he simply stared at her, eyes squinted, as though expecting her kindness to be a cruel joke.

Then, he shook his head and repeated in an empty tone, "She was here."

Unable to find the motivation to continue to denying him this belief, she nervously placed a hand on his arm. "Perhaps she was."

Loki froze at the physical contact, jaw fixing coldly. "Why do you humor me now?"

"Loki, I…"

"I will not accept your patronization or pity."

"Bloody hell." She sighed, releasing his arm. "Fine. Reject my attempts at civility. Let your stubborn pride slowly kill you. But it will not change the fact that you did a very good thing in agreeing to our..arrangement. And I will not allow you to suffer too severely on my account."

Standing up, Sif added, "And do not forget that we were once friends."

"Oh, is that what we were?" Loki finally spoke again, lifting an eyebrow. "Well, I suppose time does have a way of scabbing over unwanted memories."

His recollection to their romantic involvement gave Sif pause. Not that she had assumed only she remembered the relationship. However, she did not think Loki would ever admit that it had taken place.

"I know what we were, Loki." She stated finally, trying to communicate through her gaze that there was no need for them to discuss it.

The young man stared back for a long moment, his vividly green eyes flickering briefly to Sif's lips. Then, a breathy laugh escaped him, "You're not truly here."

Rolling her eyes in defeat, Sif turned and began to make her way down the hall once more.

"Wait!" Loki called after her a minute later.

"What is it?" She sighed.

"If you are here...prove it."

"...how?"

"Return."

A beat passed.

"Please return." breathed Loki again, voice raw with anxiety.

Sif's heartbeat picked up and she bit her lip.

This was a terrible idea.

But for some reason, some damn, indescribable reason, all her logic melted away in the heat of her pounding chest.

So, with a small, hesitant nod, she replied, "You have my word."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so first of all, you guys are the most lovely and patient readers I could ask for! Thank you for sticking around. Since I last updated I have 1. Been in an operetta. 2. Been in a play. 3. Had a choir concert. 4. Gone on vacation. 5. Gotten a job.  
> So you could say I've been busy...But anyway, I'm back now and will hopefully be updating frequently from now on!  
> Reviews mean the world to me, so keep 'em coming! And let me know if you would prefer shorter chapters with more frequent updates, or longer with less frequent.  
> Also, I will be participating in Sifki week on tumblr and writing a whole bunch of stuff for that, so if you don't already follow me there, feel free to! I'm chidi-anagonye.  
> OK, that's all she wrote. Thanks again for your patience! It means a lot. Hope you liked the chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaay I'm updating and it hasn't even been a month yet! I think the end is near! (heavy sarcasm) In all seriousness, thank you for your patience. I'm hoping to start posting shorter chapters (2k words or so) more often, because one of my lovely reviewers pointed out that that may work better so that the readers don't forget what happened in the previous chapter over time.  
> Anyway, please enjoy chapter 4 AKA shit gets real. And by real, I mean real angsty...

To Sif’s intense relief, the storm on Nornheim only lasted the better part of the night. By the time she had awoken, mildly frazzled upon finding herself in a foreign bed, the thunder had slowed to a deep murmur and the rain was a drizzle. This calm weather allowed her to request passage home immediately, which Heimdal granted. 

A small, distant part of her ached to say goodbye to Loki, but she dismissed it as residual nostalgia, nothing more. Still, however, as she walked the iridescent bridge after traveling through the bifrost his words rang in her mind and his frantic gaze stayed with her.

And she loathed herself for it.

“Sif! Praise be!” Volstagg’s voice was the first to greet her when she entered the palace. 

The Warriors Three were all gathered in her quarters, seemingly waiting for her return. Looks of weighty concern painted their faces.

“My friends...what is it?” She asked, stomach falling as she removed her cloak.

“We have much to tell you.” Hogun gestured for her to be seated.

“Tell me then.”

“Seems we were not as discreet in our conversation at the ale house as we thought.” Crossing his arms, Fandral looked around the room nervously.

“And?”

Volstagg started. “Word got out that you’re visiting Loki. The people are not too pleased. And then with you being gone all morning-”

“I am not visiting Loki-”

“But you are going off at all hours of the night to galavant around his prison,” interrupted Fandral.

“Has anything been done to calm them?” Sif glared, heart bristling with nerves.

“You are to address the people this afternoon,” said Hogan.

“Tell them they’ve got nothing to worry about, swear to stop going to Nornheim, that sort of speech. And it wouldn’t hurt to come up with a reason for your visits, besides your ‘solitary retreats’ or whatnot.” Volstagg said.

“You want me to lie to my subjects?”

“Take a page from your dear husband’s book.” Fandral smirked, but was sobered by glares from the others.

“I really think it’s for the best, Sif. And then after the one bluff this whole ordeal can blow over.” Volstagg added. “And naturally you must stop the Nornheim visits entirely. You’d be wise to never mention it again.”

Instantly, Sif’s chest grew cold. “I cannot do that.”

“By the Norns, why not!” Fandral groaned.

“I gave Loki my word that I would arrange for new servants-”

“So you  _ were _ visiting him?”

“Hold your tongue! Not intentionally. I had to enter the palace due to a storm. While inside, I came across Loki. The servants have been neglecting their duties, refusing to come near him and forgetting meals. He is suffering-”

“Good! He’s a traitor!”

“He is unwell! And isolation only adds to his imbalance.”

Fandral rolled his eyes dramatically, but Volstagg cut in.

“Well, er, Sif, your compassion on our fallen friend is admirable, but don’t you reckon you can break your word just this once? It’s only honorable to keep a promise to one who would do the same in turn.” 

“Were it not for his word I would not be queen.”

“Aye, that’s true. But one truth doesn’t make a man incapable of lies.”

“Especially if that man is The Silvertongue.” Hogan agreed.

Sif opened her mouth to protest further, but was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Yes?” She shouted distractedly.

A moment later, Frigga appeared through the entrance. She rang her hands nervously, but seemed to relax when her eyes fell upon the young queen. “Sif! You have returned! Thank goodness.”

“Yes, your grace. I apologize for my absence. A storm-”

“You need not apologize. This whole mess is my fault.”

“No, you cannot-”

“It was I who encouraged you to travel there. You were cautious and queenly. So banish any guilt from your heart.” Squeezing Sif’s hand, she smiled warmly. “I will stay by your side as you address the people, and in a week no one will even remember.”

“Here here,” agreed Volstagg. “Now you’d best be off. It’s nearly noon.”

* * *

 

“Citizens of Asgard, friends, warriors. It has been brought to my attention that my loyalty to this great realm has come under question. Suspicions have arisen regarding my whereabouts, my actions, and foremost, my relationship with my husband, Loki.” Sif spoke confidently, eyes sweeping over the massive crowd. Hundreds of people had gathered around the steps of the palace, accusing, worried looks etched onto each of their faces. “Today, I am here to put these rumors to bed. It is true that I have been making visits to the holiday palace on Nornheim-”

With this statement, the crowd erupted with shouting. 

Instantly, the guards lining the platform clanked their spears against the ground to silence them.

Frigga, who stood beside Sif, nodded at her to continue.

“But the reason for these trips is not so sinister as many have proposed.”

“Then why have your husband make a magic double of you, eh?” A man shouted from the middle of the crowd.

His voice was familiar…

Too familiar…

_ Long live the queen. _

Sif froze, searching for the man’s face. 

“The double was created by me.” Frigga spoke up, upon seeing the queen’s sidetracked state. “I did so as to ensure that her trips would not come under scrutiny and suspicion. I thought that this way, we would avoid these unnecessary addresses.” 

Recovering distractedly, Sif continued, “The...the reason for my trips was simply to...see about the servants that had been ordered to keep watch over the prisoner. As well as to ensure that the palace remained a secure facility in which to hold him.”

“She lies, just like her trickster husband!” The voice roared again, eliciting similar responses from the surrounding people.

At Frigga’s nod, the guards began to disperse into the crowd to look for the heckler.

“I can assure you she speaks the truth. Friends, she has no reason to lie! The honorable Sif has been serving our kingdom for decades, first as warrior now as queen. So anyone who would dare question her loyalty to this realm can answer to me!” Fandral stepped forward, surprising Sif.

“Thank you my friend.” She spoke in a hush, smiling gratefully. Then, she addressed the crowd once more. “I understand that the abnormal nature of my ascension to the throne has left a nervous air about our great realm, but I ask you to-”

Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past Sif’s head, grazing her left ear slightly.

A woman screamed in the crowd.

The mysterious voice bellowed, “A traitorous Frost Giant cannot be king!”

And what followed seemed to happen in slow motion.

_ More weapons rained from the mass. _

_ Sif turned to reach for her shield. _

_ He heart pounded in her ears. _

_ Frigga shouted something. _

_ She pushed the young woman from the path of an arrow. _

_ The weapon tore into the former queen’s side. _

_ Her body smacked against the marble floor with a lifeless thud. _

_ And the crowd fell silent. _

* * *

 

“Now, on to our next topic. The honorable Frigga is in critical condition.”

“Has she spoken yet?”

“Yes.”

“What says she?”

“She demands to see her son.”

“But Thor is unreachable-”

“No, her other son. Loki.”

“Surely we will not allow this?”

“Of course not. He is the reason for her injury in the first place.”

“We do not know that.” Sif spoke up at last, looking down the long table at her council members. They all seemed surprised to hear her speak. She had been unusually quiet this session due to her exhaustion. The present state of her life’s events had made it rather difficult to find time to rest.

“Well, your majesty, all due respect, but the rune carved into the arrow-” Elder Tyr started.

“Could mean many things.”

“Yes, but the most common meaning is a curse to eliminate impure royal blood. And you did hear what the man yelled after firing the first arrow.”

Sif waved him off. “What progress has there been in recovering the man?”

“The Warriors Three have taken up the quest personally.” The Einherjar Lieutenant said with a bow.

“What of the others?”

“Four men were caught and are currently in the dungeon. They have all confessed to firing the arrows, but refuse to disclose their motive or allies.”

“Friends, are we not going to consider the most obvious scheme these villains could be following?” The youngest of the elder cut in with a condescending drawl.

“What is that?” Elder Tyr asked.

“These traitors could be working for Loki himself. Think about it. We know Loki is not above insulting his own race as a ruse. Is it not possible that he has found a way to rouse a group of followers in order to assassinate the queen and claim the throne for himself?”

“No, it is not possible.” Sif said coldly, leaning back in her chair. “Loki is in no state to be plotting any sort of scheme. Might I remind you that he is suffering the consequences of extreme isolation, which, I may add, he was never sentenced to.”

“Well, he is a trickster. It could be an act.” A grey haired elder chimed in.

“It was not an act.”

The youngest elder turned to her and spoke with irritating politeness. “I understand you feel a burden for him as he is your husband but-”

Instantly, Sif slammed her fist on the table, sending a resounding thud about the tall ceilings. “I care not what our connection may be. I speak as your queen and the protector of this realm. Loki is not to blame for this. Move on, sir.”

A thin silence settled around the room.

Then, Elder Tyr spoke cautiously. “All the same...I think it would be wise to deny the honorable Frigga her request. Bringing Loki back to Asgard would only result in more problems.”

A surge of outrage gripped Sif’s chest. “She is  _ dying _ . And...and you would deny her such a simple request as seeing her son one last time?”

“This is why we’ve never had a female ruler. Too emotional…” One of the elders whispered under his breath.

Eyes lighting up with a terrifying rage, Sif turned her head sharply to stare daggers at him. “If it is too emotional to want to honor the dying wish of our most beloved former queen then damn it I hope we will all be too emotional.” Rising from her seat, she pounded her fist on the table once more. “It is your job to advise me, but it is mine to make the final decision. Loki comes to Asgard to see his mother. This meeting is adjourned. Disperse.”

And with that, the queen stormed out of the room, trailed by her multiple guards, and the anxious gazes of her council members.

* * *

 

Loki had always been fond of books. However, five years kept in solitude with nothing else to do but read his way through the palace’s lackluster library had lessened his appreciation for the occupation. And these past days more than ever, he found himself hopelessly distracted when faced with a novel. Each time he turned a page the rustling paper convinced him that he’d heard footsteps. 

Sif’s footsteps, to be exact.

He knew not whether he truly believed she would return. But he wanted her to. Oh, how he wanted her to. The very idea of seeing her again, solid and real, not an illusion, made his chest feel tight. 

Flipping to the next page in his book of Midgardian legends, he once again thought he heard footsteps beneath the paper’s crinkling. With a sigh of annoyance at his own stupidity, he shook his head and read on. However, the next time he turned a page he heard a voice.

“Loki? Where are you?”

_ I am thoroughly insane,  _ he thought to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Loki, please answer me.” Sif’s voice rang out again. This time louder.

Loki cleared his throat.

For a moment, there was silence. However, the patter of boots soon became audible.

Then, she appeared in the doorway of the library.

The book slipped from his hands in shock.

“You...you have returned.” He stated blankly, rising from his window seat.

“You are to come with me.” Crossing the room in several large strides, she spoke distractedly.

“You must be mistaken, good Sif.” He lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. “For I am barred from leaving this spacious fortress-”

“This is no time for banter, Loki. Something has happened-”

“How exciting!”

“Please!” Her face was severe and her voice held the weight of someone on the verge of tears.

Loki sobered slightly. “What has happened?”

“Your...your mother…”

Instantly, all pleasantness fell from his face. Eyebrows drawing together, he took a step towards Sif, eliminating the already scarce space between them. “What happened to my mother?”

“There was an assassination attempt-”

“Is she alive?” 

“Yes, but-”

_ “Damn it, Sif! But what?”  _ Grasping her shoulders roughly, he felt his heartbeat quicken.

“But the healers fear she may not remain that way for long.” She spoke quickly, jaw fixing with determination to hold back the tears shimmering in her dark eyes. 

For a long moment he stared at her, breath heavy and grip strong. Then, he let his hands fall from her arms and turned to face the window.

“How long does she have left?” He breathed.

“Two days at most.”

“Take me to her.”

* * *

 

She was so pale. 

So pale and still.

Loki’s knees felt weak as he approached her bed, twelve guards flanking his every side.

“Mother?” The word fell from his lips, hoarse and empty.

She did not stir, so he repeated himself.

“Mother.”

This time, her eyes fluttered open and her hand reached up frantically. “Is that my son? Is Loki here?”

“Yes. Yes, I am here.” He started, taking a quick step towards her. However, when he was but three feet away, the guards seized his arms and held him back. “What-”

“You are not to touch the honorable Frigga.” One of the Einherjar hissed into his ear.

“What is this nonsense? Let my son come to me!” Attempting to sit up, Frigga winced in pain.

“I am sorry, your grace, but we are under orders-”

“Orders? From whom?”

“From our...our superior, your highness-”

“Well, I am your superior and I am telling you to let my son by my side.” Her voice, though pained, was confident and stern. Loki had always admired that about her. “Be that understood?”

For a short time the guards still gripped the young man’s arms roughly. Then, the lieutenant gave an irritated nod and they marched out of the room.

Loki wasted no time rushing to the bed. Falling onto his knees, he took her hand and pressed a kiss onto it. 

“Loki, my sweet boy.” His mother smiled weakly.

“Who did this to you?” rasped he, taking in the feeling of her hand, solid and real.

“Hush. Do not concern yourself with that.”

“What am I to concern myself with then?”

Shaking her head kindly, she did not answer the question. Instead, she reached up and brushed his long hair from his face. “You are so thin.”

He started for a moment, confused. “How did you-”

“I can see through your illusions. There is no need for disguise with me, Loki.”

How could he forget? He never had grown skilled enough to fool her with his spells. Even on her deathbed, the healthy rous he wore did not pass her detection. A heavy sigh escaped him as he bowed his head, dropping the magic vail.

“Oh, my love,” whispered Frigga, tracing the hollows of his cheeks with her fingers. “I am so sorry.”

“Why should you apologize?” His eyebrows knitted together.

“If I could...if I could but go back, I would do so many things differently-” A guttural cough ripped from her throat, interrupting her words. 

“Do not do this.” Handing her a stein of water, he helped her drink it.

When she had finished, she continued. “No, but if I had told you of your parentage from the beginning…”

“The decisions I made regarding that were my own. I knew the possible consequences. You have never been at fault with me.” Rising from the floor, he sat beside her on the bed and took her hand between his earnestly. “Please believe me when I tell you that you are the thing I love dearest left in this world.”

The frail woman’s lips pressed into a tearful smile as she stared at her son.

A moment passed before she spoke again. “Loki, will you promise me something?”

He nodded severely.

“After I am gone…”

The words pierced his heart like a frozen arrow. “Yes?”

“Promise me that you will not give up. On yourself, on those who care about you-”

An empty laugh escaped his lips. “Once you are gone, there will be no one left who cares about me.”

“We both know that is a lie.”

“Who then?”

“You already know.”

Biting his lip, Loki hesitated, before sighing, “Sif-”

“Ah, yes. Sif.”

“You misjudge her.”

“Oh, do I? I believe I have spent more time with her than you these past five years. I observed each time she asked after you. Each look of quiet relief when she was told you were alright-”

“Common courtesy.”

“-I saw the glimmer of affection in her face when you said your wedding vows, and the outrage she expressed to the Einherjar when she reported of your ill treatment. I heard her whisper your name on evenings when she fell asleep in the council room, neck deep in laws and documents. But perhaps you are correct. Perhaps I misjudge her.” A playful glint twinkled in her eyes.

With each sentence she spoke, Loki felt himself unravel. It took everything in him to reply dryly, “Yes. Perhaps you do.”

As the pair sat in silence for a moment, Frigga’s eyelids began to grow heavy. 

Sinking further into her pillows, she whispered, “Loki, you did not promise yet.”

There was a disturbing air of finality in her tone.

A grip of anxiety seized his chest. “What shall I say?”

“Promise that you will remain open to the possibility of being loved.”

“I...will try.” He breathed, eyes widening in panic.

“No. Promise me.” It sounded as though producing those words was a struggle.

“Mother, you are unwell. Should I get someone to help-”

Suddenly, her hand gripped his arm with a stronger grip that he thought possible. “Please promise me or I shall have no peace.”

“I...I promise.”

When his words reached her ears, a calm smile settled onto her face. “Good. Now I can rest.”

A moment later, the Einherjar marched into the room once more and pulled Loki to his feet, escorting him away.

That night, Frigga died peacefully in her sleep. And all of Asgard sensed the loss as though the sun had been plucked from the sky.

* * *

 

“Loki?” Sif breathed, stepping into the Norn palace library. She had insisted on being the one to bear the news. 

“She is gone?” He asked, not turning from the window.

“In her sleep.”

Sif watched the muscles on his back tense.

“You may leave now,” said the young man through a clenched jaw.

“Loki-”

_ “I said you may leave.”  _

His tone was so fiercely threatening she found no desire to try further. 

Turning, she whispered an apology, before trudging out of the room.

When the doors were closed behind her, there was a sudden, violent crash, followed by agonized yells.

Grimacing, Sif fixed her eyes straight ahead and ran down the hall, away from the painful noises.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it! If you did, feel free to leave a review! Y'alls reviews have been so lovely and encouraging and really make me feel determined to write, so thank you so so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! Just wanted to add a little warning: This chapter contains mentions of suicide. Nothing very graphic, but I like to give people a warning.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Despite Sif’s demands, Loki had not been permitted to attend his mother’s funeral. It seemed her council was less than thrilled at her refusal to accept their suggestions, and had scoured the volumes of Asgardian laws to find one which fitted their needs:

_ (Regarding royal deaths or other tragedies) The acting ruler of Asgard must allow himself to be advised by his elders when emotionally compromised. Should the king proceed without the votes of his counsel under such circumstances, he will thereby forfight decision making until the advisors declare him emotionally sound. _

Upon scanning the yellowed scroll presented to her by the councilman, a scalding outrage had gripped her chest. “I am not emotionally compromised.”

“As you can read, that is for us to decide, your highness,” was the condescending reply.

Without saying another word, she had turned and stalked down the hall, digging her fingernails into her palm. 

The funeral was a grey, crushing affair. Despite the blooming flowers sprinkled in the deceased queen’s hair and the glowing lanterns dotting every crowd, everything seemed one color, one tone, one heavy feeling. 

And the second assassination attempt mid-ceremony did nothing to improve on the mood. 

When lighting her lantern, holding back tears so as to prove to the councilman that she was not “emotionally compromised”, the glowing orb had begun to burn far hotter than natural. Upon noticing this, Sif had dropped it frantically, waving her scorched hands in the cool air. But the lantern had not gone out. Instead, it began to grow brighter, hotter, and more spacious. Amber, serpentine flames flames licked at the hem of her gown, stretching towards her like a magnet. In the end, it had to be smothered by several magicians who later confirmed Sif’s worst fears: It had been enchanted. 

Therefore, naturally, the blame was placed upon Loki.

* * *

 

“Clearly, Loki was angry at being excluded from the honorable Frigga’s funeral and decided to plot his next assassination attempt,” sneered the youngest elder.

“No.” Sif sighed, pinching her nose in irritation. 

“Well, have you a better explanation, your majesty?”

“I have many, though I am doubtful that you will take them as genuine alternatives.”

“You wound us, your highness.” Elder Tyr spoke grimly “We are only exercising caution. It is understandable for any monarch to make unwise suggestions out of emotion. Especially after losing a loved one or being the victim of an assassination attempt. In your case, both.”

Sif listened to this speech with a stern scowl. Ordinarily, she would try to protest, but she was determined to give no indication that the elders’ accusations had any basis. She would only respond to goading that would affect the Asgardian people. They were her priority. For their sake, she could bite her cheek, dig her fingernails into her palm, and listen to the pompous advisors.

“If I may make a suggestion, good queen Sif?” The youngest elder bowed cloyingly.

Flicking a loose nail from her finger, she nodded.

“ _ Ahem _ . Among the expansive collection of relics held in these very halls there lie the Shackles of Stǫðvaleikr. These chains, gifted to Odin as a peace offering from Moon Elves of Alfheim, have the ability to hinder the magic of any sorcerer they bind. I move we apply this asset to Loki. Should the attempts cease once the shackles are bound to him, we will know he is the culprit and may proceed accordingly.”

Sif felt herself bristle. “How is ‘accordingly’?”

“Death, naturally.”

Loki was not to blame for the assassination attempts.

She was certain of this.

But the bleak prospect still sent a searing chill down her spine.

Swallowing hard, she nodded, “...naturally.”

“So, brothers, what say you?” The elder continued.

There was a unanimous murmur of agreement.

“Your highness?”

Sif pondered the proposition for a moment. Despite her annoyance at the council, she was determine to remain unbiased. And it did seem logical. “These shackles...they do not harm the wearer?”

“I do not believe so. They have been known to cause short trances and sometimes momentary loss of consciousness, but nothing damaging. Though if they did, it would not be so unjust. It’s not as though he’s innocent-”

“But he  _ is  _ unwell.” She snapped. “And do I have your word that if the attempts do not cease, you will move on to other alternatives?”

The elders all agreed.

“Very well. But I will be the one to deliver the chains to my husband. Alone.”

“As always…” a faceless counselman grumbled just within reach of her hearing.

But she did not respond. It wasn’t worth it. Let them talk.

“Then the matter is settled. What other business do we have this day?”

* * *

 

“Loki?” Sif called out as she marched the wooden halls of the Norn palace, The Shackles of Stǫðvaleikr weighting her satchel. There was a strained, stagnant air which hung about the twisting corridors, as though Loki’s pained screams from her previous visit had manifested in ghosts, walking the halls beside her. And despite the muted, rain speckled sunlight wafting through the glass ceilings, Sif felt her surroundings bared the mysterious, untrustworthy concealment of darkness.

Or perhaps she was just paranoid.

She shouted his name louder.

But Loki did not respond.

For a sickening moment she entertained the thought that perhaps he had taken his own life during his last outburst. It would not have been unbelievable, given his former attempt on the Bifrost following his first betrayal. But this anxiety dissolved upon seeing candlelight flowing from a shadowy room ahead of her.

“Loki?” She asked, biting her lip.

A beat passed.

Then, his voice emerged. “Sif.”

A surprising amount of relief flooded over the queen as she approached the chamber. “Yes, it is I.”

“Was there another attempt on your life?”

The question stopped her cold in the doorway. “How did you know?” 

Scanning the dim room with her eyes, she deduced that it must be his sleeping chamber. A bed sat in one corner, accompanied by a washtub and mirror. On the other side of the room were several out of place bookshelves (presumably dragged there by Loki himself), and a massive window, covered by thick, dusty drapes.

Loki reclined in a velvet chair, looking surprisingly composed while reading. “There would be no other reason for your coming here. I assume I am the suspect?”   
Sif nodded, blushing slightly. Though, she didn’t have the damndest idea why she should blush. “I do not accuse you, but my advisors have overruled me.”

Loki’s eyebrows drew together. “But you are the queen.”

He sounded genuinely confused.

This observation was almost comforting to Sif, as it seemed to reinforced her own outrage at the unjust situation. “According to them I am emotionally compromised, granting them authority to overrule my decisions.”

“Hm. That law is not to be abused in such a manner.”

“And yet, my protests are seen as evidence to support their claim.”

“So, why have you come?” He pushed his inky hair away from his face, folding the book.

Lifting the satchel, she approached him. “It was decided this morn that you are the most likely culprit. So, in order to prove your interference, you are to wear the Shackles of Stǫðvaleikr. If the attempts cease, this will be seen as confirmation of your guilt-”

Upon hearing the relic’s name, Loki’s countenance changed. His muscles tensed and his eyes grew wide. “The Shackles of Stǫðvaleikr?”

“Indeed. But only until your innocence is proven-”

“No.” Lowering his voice, he rose from the chair.

“Loki, you are not being given a choice-”

“I will not wear the shackles.”

Sif’s shoulders fell in irritation. “Would you prefer the axe? Because that is the fate which awaits you should you refuse.”

“Perhaps I would.”

“This is no time to jest.” Drawing the chains from her satchel, she approached him.

“I do not jest.” He spoke hollowly, backing away from her.

“Why are you being difficult? I do not want to force you.”

“Then do not.”

With a heavy sigh, she slung the shackles over her shoulder and drew her sword. “Very well. Loki, I command you to halt and allow me to bind you with these chains.”

“No.”

“Then you leave me no choice.” Springing forward, she gripped his thin arm and twisted it behind his back, holding her sword to his neck.

A look of genuine surprise seized his face as he struggled. Evidently he had not expected her use her weapon. With the arm she did not hold, he attempted to push her off, but his efforts were in vain. He was weak. And Sif easily shoved him across the floor until his cheek was against the cold, wooden wall. 

Then, she grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her. “Now halt, and I shall refrain from using my weapon.”

Keeping one hand securely on his chest, she sheathed her sword and handled the shackles.

However, Loki’s voice surprised her.

“Sif, do not do this.” His tone was broken and pleading.

A pang of compassion rang through her. “I...I am told that this will not hurt, Loki. It will only stop your magic-”

_ “Please.” _

“I…” She started, meeting his frantic gaze. He looked at her as though she was a raft and he was drowning. Only, the raft was going the opposite direction. 

Taking in a deep breath, she tore her eyes away from his and spoke determinedly. “I am sorry, Loki. I have to do this. But once you are proven to be innocent, I will remove them at once. You have my word.”

With a final moment of hesitation she secured the shackles onto his wrists and neck.

Then, as if a curtain fell from ceiling, there was a gust of air and everything looked different. 

The bookshelves in the corner were overturned.

The drapes were torn.

Rust colored stains dotted the rug.

The mirror was shattered in a web-like pattern, and the wash tub was cracked.

And Loki, suddenly looking translucently pale and thin as a skeleton, collapsed like a marionette doll into Sif’s arms.

“Loki?” She whispered after a moment, kneeling on the floor. “Loki, are you…”

He was not responsive.

Panic gripping her chest, she pressed her fingers to his wrist and waited for a pulse. 

_ “Please...do not do this…” _ She breathed, lifting his head with her unoccupied hand.

Sure enough, after a strained moment, there was a faint thumping beneath her fingertips. 

She let out a breath of relief. 

Lifting him up from the floor, she began to carry him to his bed. He was disconcertingly light, and would have been even moreso had the shackles not hung on his body. Yet somehow, his lack of weight made him feel all the heavier. 

Once she had placed him upon the bare mattress, Sif turned to fetch the healer. 

However, she was stopped by a surprisingly strong grip on her arm.

Turning, Sif let out a gasp.

Loki’s eyes were glazed over with a pearly white film, starkly contrasted by the dark gray circles beneath them, and his mouth was open in a silent scream. 

Kneeling beside the bed, she took his hand and allowed him to grasp her fingers crushingly. The elder’s voice echoed in her mind,  _ “They have been known to cause short trances and sometimes momentary loss of consciousness, but nothing damaging.” _

“Loki, you are in a trance. But it will be over soon. I-I am going to go get the healer and she will be able to-”

“Once you are gone there will be no one left that cares about me.” Loki interrupted, voice dull and detached.

“What-what are you talking about?” 

“Sif...you misjudge her...”

“Who do I misjudge?” Eyebrows drawing together in confusion, Sif felt her heartbeat quicken. 

Loki’s gave no indication that he heard her voice or was even aware of her presence. But the monotone words continued to pour from his mouth. 

“Mother, you are unwell...Should I get some help?”

_ Mother? _

Instantly, a sinking realization dawned on her. She remembered reading about trances briefly when she was a girl from some dusty elvish volume. It had been Loki, in fact, that had read the passage to her. His voice played in the back of her mind.

_ “Often times when creatures of great magical power go into trances, their mouths will unknowingly recite their last conversation or a conversation which held great significance to them. Whatever they remember clearest. When prodded, they may also unknowingly answer questions about said experience. As such, trances can be used as an effective interrogation tactic. Is this not fascinating, Sif?” _

“Oh…” Sif breathed aloud, eyes fixing on the young man’s sunken face. The echoing thump of her heart was becoming all too present in her ears. 

She was hearing Loki’s last conversation with his mother.

A naked, intrusive feeling crept under her skin, but the selfish desire to know why she was mentioned kept her still.

“I...I promise.” He spoke dully. Then, for a moment, he fell silent.

With some reluctance, Sif leaned close and whispered, “What did you promise, Loki?”

A beat passed.

Then, his hollow voice rang out again. “Mother bade me to promise her that I will remain open to the possibility of being loved.”

Her blood went cold. “Loved...by whom?”

Another moment came and went.

Finally, a single name fell from his tongue.

“Sif.” 

Sif’s body reacted involuntarily. Her mouth fell open slightly, gasping in a shaky breath, and her vision grew blurry. Rising from the floor, she turned and sprinted from the room, down the halls of the palace, shouting for the healer.

After dragging the startled woman from the other wing of the palace, she returned to Loki’s chamber. There they found him unconscious, but no longer in a trance. His eyes were now shut, as were his lips, but a look of struggle still etched his brow.

“Is he…” Sif started after the healer had examined him for a moment.

“He lives, your majesty, but barely. It would appear that he had been using his magic to keep himself alive.” The older woman spoke guardedly, evidently aware of the implications of this statement, but hoping the queen would not connect them.

She hoped in vain.

“You...you were commanded to give him regular examinations and see to his health.” Sif spoke lowly, fists already beginning to clench.

“Yes, your majesty-”

“Did you do as commanded?”

“I am sorry, your ma-”

_ “Did you do as commanded?” _

“No. But-but he is a criminal, your majesty and I was afraid-”

Instinctively, Sif raised her hand to strike the betrayer, but stopped herself short.

Dropping the shaking limb to her side, she stared daggers into the terrified healer. “You have disobeyed the orders of your queen. In doing so, her husband and the prince of Asgard has had to use magic to keep himself alive. Do you understand the gravity of what you have done?”

“Mercy, your majesty! I beg your forgiveness.”

“Such a crime would ordinarily result in your execution. However, you are fortunate. I will not be seeing you to the gallows.”

“Thank you your majesty! Long live the queen-”

“Instead, you will be staying here. Confined to this room.” Gripping the healers arm, she pulled the blubbering woman to her feet. “Here you will take care of my husband until the shackles may be removed. And if he dies under your charge...you will be punished accordingly. Be that understood?”

Unable to speak, the healer nodded with a sharp swallow.

“Good. Now go get your medical supplies. Now!”

Once they had scrambled out of the room, Sif turned again to Loki.

Kneeling beside his bed, she searched his face. For what, she was not sure. Then, before she knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

It was cold against her lips, despite the sweat beading at his hairline. His heart thumped rhythmically beneath her hand on his chest.

After a moment, she pulled away-

And instantly, she sucked in a shocked breath.

Loki’s eyes had opened.

He stared up at her with a mix of confusion, surprise, and something Sif could not place.

Something she had not seen in his eyes since their youth...

Blushing furiously, she rose and fled the room without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've already written most of the next chapter so hopefully that will be posted within the next two weeks.  
> By the way, I just wanted to say: Y'all are the literal best reviewers ever? You guys are so sweet and thorough in your reviews I actually get a little emotional. It seriously means so much to me, so thank you.  
> As always, kudos and comments are so very appreciated! Have a great day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so so sorry for the late update. Vague explanation at the end. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> Enjoy...

_Sif sat in the healing wing, staring up at the vaulted ceiling._

_She had almost died that day, or so the healer had told her. A puncture wound to the side, significant blood loss, minor internal damage. Strangely, at the time of the attack, she was aware of none of this. The only thing which provided her any indication of the severity of her plait had been Loki's face._

_The battle had been roaring and stampeding in a blur of sound and motion when she'd felt an intense pinch above her hip. At first, she had ignored it in favor of the adversary at her front. However, upon defeating her opponent, she had looked up to see Loki staring at her. A look of horror and concern painted his angular features and his mouth former her name. In that moment, Sif looked down and saw an arrow lodged into her side, crimson blood spilling around it. When she had looked up again, the world seemed distant and foggy._

_"Sif!" Loki's voice cried desperately, but it seemed a thousand miles away. He ran towards her in what appeared to be slow motion, violently slashing the enemies that tried to hinder him._

_The last thing Sif remembered was feeling her body suddenly give out and tumbling backwards into the prince's lean arms._

_Shifting in her cot, she sucked in a sharp breath. The wound was going to take time to heal, she had been told. But apparently the pain would cease in a day or so._

_"Lady Sif?" Loki's voice echoed through the chamber suddenly, interrupting her thoughts._

_Turning, she saw him, standing in the doorway and wringing his hands. Her heartbeat involuntarily quickened. She could not remember the last time he had addressed her outside of the battlefield. And a large part of her ached for their former friendship. Their former...whatever they had been._

_"Yes?" She asked, trying to communicate her feelings through her tone._

_"How, um...Are you well?"_

_"As well as one who has lately been stabbed can be." She grinned._

_He did not._

_Crossing the room, he stopped and gazed out of the arched window. "When are you expected to make a full recovery?"_

_"With frequent treatment I may be good as new in a matter of weeks."_

_"I am glad to hear of it."_

_A strained silence settled over them as Sif watched his fingers nervously trace the cracks in the stone wall._

_Then, swiveling suddenly, Loki faced her. "Well, I will leave you to your rest-"_

_"Oh."_

_"Do you require something else?"_

_Before she knew what she was doing, the words slipped from her lips, "What have I done to lose your friendship, Loki?"_

_Instantly, the young man's entire body tensed. Face growing cold and disconnected, he folded his hands behind his back. "I haven't the vaguest idea what you mean. Good day, Lady Sif-"_

_"Stop that. You know damn well what I mean."_

_"Your ladyship is mistaken. Perhaps the medicine-"_

_"My mind is sound as ever, but for the bewilderment which plagues it. Please, just tell me why you have rejected my friendship."_

_A moment passed._

_Then, the prince sighed. "You are mistaken, Sif."_

_"Why are you being difficult-"_

_"You are mistaken in saying that I rejected your friendship; in casting the blame upon my back. No indeed, Lady, it was you who ended our relationship." He spoke in a snarl of sorts, glaring eyes seething with sudden emotion._

_Sif felt her stomach twist as she listened to the accusation. "Whatever do you mean?"_

_"You deserted me the moment you came upon something- or should I say someone -better! You did not even hesitate, you did not let the corpse of our former relationship grow cold in the ground before you ran into the arms of my brother. I believed you to be my friend, my companion, but I was a fool."_

_"This is madness, Loki-"_

_"You even sound like my brother. Well, the two of you make a lovely pair."_

_"Thor and I are not-"_

_"Not what?"_

_"Not lovers!" She glared, face grimacing at the mere suggestion._

_A bitter laugh escaped him. "You honestly expect me to believe that?"_

_"I hope you will."_

_Sarcasm seeped from his words. "In that case, of course. I will simply believe the person who abandoned me. The person who chose my brother over-"_

_"Alright, that is it!" Rising from the bed with a painful grimace, she stepped towards him. "I never abandoned you! And I certainly never 'chose' Thor over you! He is my friend, but you were my-"_

_"Your what?" His words were hoarse and short, but the anger in his eyes grew obscured by a layer of tears._

_"My closest companion. My-"_

_"Then why did you push me away?" His voice rose again as he blinked roughly. "I cared for you deeply, Sif!"_

_Sif felt a stab through her chest equal in pain to that of her hip._

_"I did not push you away."_

_"You lost interest in me! You ceased to spend time in the library or the training yard together in favor of accompanying your new friends, all of whom make their sport by relentlessly mocking me."_

_"The Warriors Three make jests at the expense of everyone, Loki-"_

_"Funny, I don't hear them mocking you."_

_"Perhaps you only hear what you wish."_

_"And perhaps you only remember history as it reflects well on you."_

_"How dare you?" She hissed, fists shaking with rage._

_"I dare rather easily, madem. Perhaps you felt guilty, or maybe you are rewriting the past in an attempt at justifying your relationship with Thor. But indeed, it was you who retreated from our affair. You were the one who tore out my heart-"_

_"I believe you do not have a heart. And to think: Once I was a fool who had a mind to give you mine!"_

_For a minute, they both fell silent, heavy breathing mingling as the loud words dwindled away._

_Then, a surge of overwhelming compulsion came over Sif._

_She didn't think, she only felt. And in a moment, she had lunged forward, taking his head into her hands, and kissed him full on the mouth._

_He responded almost at once, gripping her waist roughly and sighing against her lips. It was a passionate, confused, frenzied embrace, but they both committed to it fully. Their actions remained a great deal ahead of their minds as they kissed, each matching the other's aggression._

_Sif had nearly forgotten how much she relished the feeling of his cold hands through the thin material of her frock, the way his hair felt between her fingers._

_However, eventually the situation did dawn on the young Asgardians and they slowed to a stop._

_Breathing heavily, the prince stepped away from her, eyes wide. "Well."_

_"Well." She replied, slightly dazed at her own actions._

_"Um...I will leave you to your rest, Lady Sif."_

_"Yes, um...excellent."_

_"And I hope you will soon be feeling better-"_

_"I thank you, your highness."_

_He gaped a moment more before turning to leave._

_"Oh, and Loki?" She cleared her throat, biting her lip nervously._

_"Hm?"_

_"Perhaps...when I am well enough to leave this place, you would accompany me to the library?"_

_Lifting his eyebrows, a soft smile flickered in his eyes. "It would be my honor, Sif."_

* * *

Another week brought another assassination attempt.

This time, the attacker was one of Sif's own maids, wielding a poison dipped knife beneath her tunic as she helped dress the queen. Luckily, she had underestimated the trained eyes and quick hands of the female warrior. The weapon had barely grazed Sif's neck before the maid found herself disarmed, her hands twisted behind her back and a sobbing apology already on her lips.

But, despite the general unease that tended to come with attempts on one's life, Sif found herself experiencing another emotion as well: Relief.

Loki had been without magic nearly ten days. This attack was clearly not orchestrated by him. Therefore, the council would have no choice but to allow her husband his magic once more. And, subsequently, his lifeforce.

However, Sif had overestimated her elder's logic.

"But brothers, is it not at all possible that the trickster has pawns? Those who continue to carry out his plot in case of...complications?"

"Yes, thank you Elder Tyr! My thoughts exactly."

"I say we wait a month."

"He is dying without his magic, Elders." Sif spoke levelly, her glare cool.

"We have greater worries than the death of a criminal. All due respect, your majesty." The youngest elder patronized.

"If we continue pursuing this fruitless path, the real culprit will never be found."

"There there, you majesty. We of the council know too well your tenderness of heart in matters accusing your husband-"

Unable to stop herself, Sif let out a disbelieving, humorless laugh.

The young elder carried on, ignoring her outburst. "-but at this moment Loki is our prime suspect. He has motive, and means."

"Have you not considered that perhaps Loki himself is the motive itself?"

Opening his mouth to, no doubt, dismiss her, the elder waved his hand in the air.

Sif cut him short. "Upon the arrows were runes, elders. Runes demanding pureness of blood upon the throne. You cannot ignore the significance-"  
"Sif, it is the belief of the council that this is merely a ruse created by Loki himself," said Elder Tyr.

"I am aware of that, Tyr. You forget, I am seated at this table as well."

In response, the silver haired man bowed his head.

For a moment, a frigid silent settled over the high ceilinged room.

"Well, nonetheless, can we agree upon waiting one month before reviewing this suspect once more?" A blond elder asked finally.

The elders voted almost unanimously in favor of this proposition, and the agreement was set in stone.

Loki was to remain magicless for another month.

* * *

"How fairs Loki?" Sif asked the traitorous healer upon arriving at the Norn palace. Tossing aside her rain soaked cloak, she swallowed down her irritation at the news she must deliver.

"Gaining strength, your majesty. He is no longer confined to his bed and has began to eat daily." The nervous woman replied with a bow.

"May I enter the room?"

"Oh, of course, your highness-"

"Excellent. You may go and clean yourself. Prepare for another month of waiting upon his majesty."  
"A...another month, your highness-"  
"Would you prefer to face traditional judgement for your crimes?"

Her eyes grew wide and panicked. "You-you misunderstand me, your grace. I simply wished to know how many supplies I should gather from my quarters."

"Indeed."

With that, Sif strode past the woman and into Loki's chamber.

It had been cleaned, she observed, and the drapes sewn. The bookshelves had been set right and the washtub mended.

A small smile crept onto her face.

As she approached the bed where Loki rested, the habitual chill of nerves ran up her spine and quickened her heartbeat. Looking upon his peaceful face once more recalled memories of her last visit. Her mind had yet to come to terms with what she had overheard and how she ought to feel about it, but her body seemed to have decided easily. With each footstep she took towards him, her lips seemed to whisper reminders of the way his cool skin felt against them, the way his long fingers used to curl around her waist…

"Sif?" His voice sounded suddenly, heavy with exhaustion.

A blush painted across her cheeks instantly, as though he could read her thoughts. "Yes, it is I. How...are you well?"

"Have you come to remove the shackles," asked Loki, rising onto his elbow, a hopeful glimmer in his gaze.

Biting her lip, she tried to find the words to share the unfortunate news.

After observing her silence, his face fell. "No. No, you have not."

"Loki-"

"There has been another attempt on your life and the imbeciles who make up your council have deemed me responsible once more. Am I correct?"

Sinking onto the stool beside his bed, she nodded gravely.

"Those damn fools are going to kill you, Sif. Every moment spent waiting upon my alleged villainous plot, your attacker is celebrating."

"I told them just that-"

"-but they are deaf to the voice of their queen. May the fires of Hel consume them all." As he said this, his eyes fixed angrily onto a spider floating in the rafters above them.

Most likely reciting an incantation in his head, Sif thought. Had the shackles not bound him, the poor creature would likely have found itself quite altered now.

"How long must I wait?" He asked after a moment, looking at her once more.

"There is to be another vote in a month."

His eyebrows furrowed. "That...that will be too late."

Stomach sinking, she looked up from the floor. "Too late for what?"

"I am not getting better, Sif-"

"You look better." She commented without thinking. After the words had escaped her, she blushed deeply and looked away. Although, it was true. His skin was no longer like paper and the hollowness of his face was improved.

Lifting a brow, he smirked slightly. "Thank you. But I am afraid that is not the ailment to which I refer."

"I do not follow you."

"The trances have become more regular and that dolt of a servant hasn't any idea how to aid me."

"But I believed the trance to be a singular occurrence!"

"As did I. But it is not so. They have only grown in frequency and length. So much so that I fear…" He trailed off, a look of pain etching his face.

"What do you fear?" Sif leaned forward, hand trembling with an urge to touch his cheek and calm him.

"I fear...should I wait a month...the trance will become...permanent."

The words had barely mixed with the air before the silent, screaming expression once again overtook his features.

"Loki?" Sif whispered after a minute, swallowing the pang she felt seeing him like this.

When no reply came and his expression remained the same, she allowed herself a moment of indulgence. Reaching forward, she stroked his angled cheek lightly, brushing aside his inky hair. It was shorter than it had been during her last visit. Evidently the healer had chosen to trim it. The length was identical to the way he had worn it as a boy, chopped cleanly below the nape of his neck. Smiling slightly, she let out a sigh and whispered, "I know not if you can hear me while in this state, but if you can, know this: I will do everything in my power to persuade my council. You have my word."

And with that, she rose from the seat and gathered her damp cloak, starting for Asgard with a newfound determination.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, long story short the past month or so has been one of the hardest times in my life. If you follow me on tumblr then you already know why, but basically everything in my life kind of fell apart and then a few days ago a loved one passed away, so I did not have it in me to finish this until today. Sometimes writing is an escape for me and helps me cope with mental health issues, but other times the motivation to write is buried beneath layers of depression and stress, and this past month was the latter. However, this morning I got a burst of inspiration and decided to sit down and try to write and huzzah! It actually happened. Anyway, thank you for understanding. I can't make any promises that the next update will be like, next week, but I do swear that I will never abandon this fic and I appreciate you guys so much for sticking with me.
> 
> As always, reviews are super awesome and always make my day, so if ya feel like writing one that would be lovely!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I'm so so so so sorry for taking a month to update again! I just ended up being so beyond busy that I barely had any time to write.
> 
> However, I'm updating now, and I actually really like this chapter, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Anyway, happy reading...

Upon arriving on Asgardian soil, Sif was greeted by Fandral and Volstagg, both looking equally relieved to find her.

“Sif, you must come quickly, now!” The larger man prompted, quite out of breath.

“What is the urgency, friends?”

“There’s been a confession.”

“Of what? From whom?”

“Your lovely servant girl. She has come forward with her motive in exchange for her life.” Fandral cut in, eyes bright with the gossip.

“And?”

He smirked, turning to his rotund friend. “She means to ask if it’s Loki.”

“Please, come out with it!”

“Rest easy, Sif.” Volstagg placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “She has denied any connection to our traitorous prince.”

“Ancestors be praised.” She breathed.

“I would not rejoice just yet. Your council has chosen to meet without you to discuss it,” sighed Fandral.

Instantly, Sif’s stomach churned with outrage. A shaky breath escaped her flaring nostrils. “When?”

“Almost this moment-”

Throwing her traveling cloak into the arms of the blond warrior, she swiveled and made off for the council chamber at a breakneck speed. This had gone far enough. She was the queen, archaic verses be damned! 

Throwing open the heavy chamber doors, she stormed into the room with a look of pure venom in her already striking eyes. 

“Elders.” She spoke coldly, her words echoing throughout the rafters.

Upon hearing her, all the men turned and gaped at the queen, looks of surprise, guilt, and annoyance radiating from their faces.

The youngest Elder was the first to gain his composure. “Your majesty-”

“Not expecting me, were we?” She interrupted, approaching the table and falling into her throne at the head.

“Your highness, we thought it best to meet immediately after the confession, but we did send someone to look for you.” Elder Tyr offered mildly.

Turning to the Einherjar lieutenant, she lifted an eyebrow. “Is this true? Do not lie to me.”

“No, your grace.” He replied.

“What a shame. Elder Tyr, why lie about this?” Her dagger gaze bore into the silver haired man.

He squirmed. “Your highness…”

“Your highness, it was the opinion of the council that it is best to meet without you on matters regarding Loki. As we have stated before, you are too close to the situation at hand-” said the youngest Elder.

“And as I have stated before, this opinion is utter foolishness. Now, we are going to carry on with this discussion, and I, as your queen, will be present and an active member. Be that understood?”

To her disappointment, rather than looking scared or humbled, the Elders all shared looks of annoyance and smugness. 

Her blood boiled. “Now, I was informed that there has been a confession of motive?”

“Alleged motive, yes that is correct. But, forgive me your highness, had you been here instead of on Nornheim with your husband you would have heard first hand.” A bearded Elder grumbled.

Sif glared in response. “Who was present during this?”

“Several Einherjar.”

Turning to the lieutenant, she asked, “What exactly did the servant say?”

The tall man bowed. “After several hours of questioning, and a walk to the chopping block, the young girl was asked one final time why she had attempted to kill her queen. In response, she said this: ‘They said if I killed her then a proper ruler could be placed on the throne. They said it would cleanse the crown of soiled Jotun blood. And that if I did this I would be given the title of Lady.’ After making this statement, she then drained of color and fainted, your majesty.”

An overwhelming urge to smile pulled at the corner of Sif’s lips, but she maintained her composure. “There, you see, Elders? It is as I said. Loki is the motive, not the culprit.”

The youngest Elder looked bored. “Now, now. Let’s not be too hasty, your grace-”

“Pardon me, councilman, but this matter does require haste. During my visit this morning I observed Loki. The shackles you have forced upon him are killing him. And the longer you accuse him of this crime, the longer the real criminal has to scheme.”

“Perhaps this confession is a misdirection.”

“Are you completely ignorant to your own stubbornness, Elder? Loki is not behind this!” Slamming her fist onto the table, she bit her lip. This very unqueenly action prompted a pang of loneliness for Frigga. She longed for the older woman’s wisdom, her calm in this storm.

“Perhaps not. But abandoning this theory altogether is foolish as well.” Elder Tyr cut in, folding his hands. “I agree, your highness, that it is time to examine other leads. However, I believe the shackles should not be removed so quickly. We voted on a month, so we ought to stand by that.” 

“No.” Sif shook her head.

“I’m afraid it’s just not up to you, your highness. All in favor say aye.”

A unanimous murmur sounded from the pompous men. 

“I will not allow this!” Seethed Sif, rising from her chair. “I can only hope you will, in time, swallow your poisonous pride and see how your self assured delusion are inviting chaos. For the good of Asgard, and for my own life.”

“Your majesty, we have only your best interest at heart.” Elder Tyr droned after her as she marched out of the room.

* * *

 

Sif’s heart thumped in her ears as she trekked the winding trail leading to the palace. Massive droplets of rain showered from the murky sky, drenching her completely before she had even reached the door. But somehow, she was almost oblivious to this. Her task fortified her determination, blocking out the world around her and focusing her mind on a single point: Loki.

Spite was the greatest fuel for resilience. 

Her dripping hands burst open the palace doors, and she did not stop to remove her cloak. Taking great lunges down the now familiar wooden halls, she called out for the traitorous healer.

The woman appeared in a moment, face pinched with nerves. “Your highness, are you-”

“You are dismissed for the evening. Go to your private chambers and stay there until you are told you may leave.” Sif spoke as she walked, relying on the woman to keep up with her strides.

“May I gather my things-”

“I said you are dismissed!”

“Yes your grace, a thousand apologies.” Bowing, she scurried off like a frightened rat.

Sif continued on her trek until she had reached the door of Loki’s chamber.

There, she paused momentarily. Her heartbeat pounded angrily in her ears as her blood sung. All of her council’s defiance, all of their prejudice and dismissal, created a dark tunnel around her thoughts, and in the white light at the end stood her husband.

With a deep breath, she knocked on the stately entrance.

“Hm...come in?” Loki’s voice sounded from the other side.

Throwing open the doors, she strode in purposefully.

The prince stood beside a bookshelf, thin fingers poised to turn the page of an aged volume. But, upon hearing the slam of the doors, his eyes grew wide.

“Sif, are you-” Loki started, looking up from the book he held.

Without saying a word, she crossed the room and gripped the shackles roughly. The metallic clanking filled the room as she unlocked the intricate device, before pulling them off of Loki’s wrists.

“Sif, what are you-”

“Hush.” She snapped, kicking the accursed shackle across the floor. 

Then, looking up with the same determined, defiant glint in her eyes, she did something she had not planned.

She lunged forward and pressed her lips to his.

Freezing completely, the prince stumbled backwards until his back hit the bookshelves.

Sif closed her eyes, letting her frustration man her controls, and kissing the startled prince with a hunger, a need, so intense it nearly blinded her. Her hands ran up his lean chest to grip his smooth hair as she pressed forward.

But...he wasn’t responding.

_ Why wasn’t he responding? _

Pulling back with heavy breath, she felt her stomach sink.

Loki’s face was unreadable.

“Well?” She growled after a moment. “Say something!”

“What would you have me say, lady?” He spoke hollowly, gaze meeting hers unwaveringly.

Leaning forward and gripping his collar, she looked down at his lips. “Say that you want this.”

“I want this.”

That was enough for Sif. In a moment, her lips attacked his once more, with a newfound confidence.

However, Loki’s hands were soon on her waist, pushing her away.

“What?” She sighed, annoyance embarrassingly obvious in her tone.

“Sif, you are the queen and I am a criminal. Should this be discovered-”

“No, not a criminal. I am the queen, and you..are...my...king.” Between words, she trailed kisses down his neck, relishing the way he shuddered against her.

After a moment of resilience, a delicious sigh escaped his lips and his grip on her waist tightened.

“Sif.” His voice was thick with conflicted struggle. “I do not want you to regret-”

“I will not.” She spoke firmly, looking up at his face once more. “Please, Loki, I need this.”

For a moment, a stab of worry sliced through her chest that he would refuse her. 

However, a minute later, Loki’s eyes grew resigned and impassioned. 

“As do I.” He whispered, touching her cheek. 

And as her lips captured his once more, their feet stumbling to his bed, Sif knew she had passed the point of no return. 

There was no coming back from this.

But she didn’t want to.

* * *

 

_ Hands. _

_ Lips. _

_ Sighs. _

_ Warmth. _

The events of the past night raced through her mind in fragments, razor sharp shards of a whole evening, slowly piecing together in a jagged mosaic.

It was as though she had been drunk on anger, convincing herself that no other space in time existed outside of that one night. In the pale light of day, however, the foggy memories pounded in her head like a hangover.

Breathing deeply the rain scented air, Sif hugged her damp cloak around herself. She stood on the balcony of Loki’s room, staring into the thick Norn forest. Moss covered trees stretched into the clouds, creating a fog which seemed to roll like ocean waves across every surface. Giant, ancient birds whose feathers hung like melting wax sailed through the drizzling rain, roaring out their calls to one another as they passed. As the sun was just rising, the perpetual storm clouds took on a slight golden hue, kissing the ground with honeyed light wherever the leaf canopy allowed it.

There was a calming stillness about the realm which Sif found addicting, as if it had been frozen in time. She knew not how long she stood there, staring into the scenic view, before Loki appeared.

For a long while he did not say anything, merely approaching the warrior and settling beside her in a mutual silence.

However, when he did speak, it was only to ask: “Do you regret it?”

“No.” Sif responded at once, eyes not moving from the bird she was tracking.

No response had ever been so true, so automatic.

And yet she felt shame in her honesty.

Moving cautiously, Loki snaked his arms around her waist, cool lips grazing her neck.  “Why did you come? What have I done to deserve your presence?”

“I hardly know.” She sighed, leaning back against him.

A breathy laugh escaped him, vibrating in his chest.

The two stood motionless for a spell, neither wanting to break the blissful tance which covered them.

“You were not given permission to remove my shackles.” Loki thought aloud, thin fingers tracing a pattern against her wrist.

“I am the queen. I do not require permission.” She replied, sounding far more confident than she felt.

“All the same, you defied your council's wishes in favor of assisting a traitor-”

“You have more than earned the right to be rid of that title, Loki.”

“I betrayed the crown and led an attack on a realm we are bound to protect. What other title would you give me?”

“The title of my husband, my friend-”

“Sif, I am a frost giant who has done nothing but cause turmoil for those I loved most-”

“By the Norns, why will you not just accept my forgiveness? My affection?” Sif asked, turning to face him with frustrated eyes. “You make things far more difficult for yourself than necessary, you know that?”

At her words, Loki froze. Opening his mouth to speak, his eyes betrayed a pained remembrance.

Frigga’s final words ran through her mind instantly.

Biting her lip, Sif gently brushed a stray hair from the young man’s face. “Please, Loki. Allow me to care for you as I did in our youth. Is it not my choice to decide who is deserving of my affection?”

With a sigh, his brow creased and he leaned forward, forehead touching hers. “This will not end well, we both know it.”

“Perhaps.” She nodded, stroking his cheek. “But I am willing to challenge fate once more. Are you?”

His shaky breath brushed against her lips.

“Say yes, Loki.” She whispered after a moment.

And, pulling away to look at her face, he responded: 

“As you wish, your highness.”

* * *

 

“Congratulations, Sif. You have created quite the scandal.” Fandral greeted her the moment she stepped through the Bifrost.

Heart sinking into her stomach, she tried to regain some of the carelessness she had felt the previous day. “Well, come out with it, then. What have I been accused of this time?”

“I’m afraid, my friend, it is nothing you have not done.” Taking her arm, he stopped her from exiting the golden domed room. 

“What do you mean?”

“While you were away with your husband for a full evening, the palace was bombed.”

The blood which surged through her veins turned painfully cold. “Is...is anyone dead?”

“No, praise the ancestors. However, there is something you ought to know before you climb the palace steps.”

“What is it, Fandral?”

“Your council held a public address this morning and chose their wording in a very unflattering manner. Hogan and I tried to convince them that this is foolishness, but they did not listen. And your absence did not go unnoticed-”

“I can tolerate insult.”

“No, you don’t understand, Sif. Your council had announced that Loki is behind these attacks.”

“Oh…” She breathed, eyes flickering to the mob which was visibly forming around the palace.

“Indeed. And...I’m afraid the people are demanding his execution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slowburn has officially become a fire! Hope y'all are happy!
> 
> If you liked this chapter, reviews are always greatly appreciated!
> 
> As Thanksgiving break is this month, I am hopeful that I'll have more time to write, so I will try my best to update within the next two weeks. (If I don't, feel free to come harass me on my tumblr chidi-anagonye)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks a million for reading. So, I previously posted this fanfic exclusively on FFN (I'm AsgardGuardian over there) but have since realized that 90% of the sifki fandom uses ao3, so here we are. I still have almost no clue how to use this site, so if I messed something up, feel free to let me know and I'll fix it!  
> Also, so far there are only two completed chapters of this fic, but I'm working on chapter three as we speak. I'll post ch2 on here tomorrow, and hopefully ch3 weekend.  
> Anyway, feel free to leave kudos and comments if you liked these chapter! Thanks again for reading.


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